The Bridesmaid and The Journalist
by witandwaldorf
Summary: Blair Waldorf has been a bridesmaid too many times, 27 too many times to be exact. But she just can't say no to taking center stage on a such a special day. Dan Humphrey, on the other hand, hates the whole extravagant affair. Yet, he can't bring himself to quit his job as a wedding columnist. Especially, not once he's met the perennial bridesmaid, Blair. 27 Dresses AU
1. Chapter 1

**Part I: The Bridesmaid**

Swaths of chiffon the color of cotton candy swim around me as I step out of the sleek town car. As my satin pump clad foot hits the pavement, I feel the dull ache at the bottom of my foot and regret for the 10th time today agreeing to be in two weddings in one day. I inhale sharply as I climb out of the car to mentally prepare and I use my exhale to propel me forward. I remind myself I have less than 30 seconds to make it back to the head table to give my bridesmaid toast. The reminder makes me sprint forward, eager to not miss it. But my mad dash back into the reception hall is quickly interrupted by a distraught Dorota. "Ms. Blair! Ms. Blair! Wrong shoe!"

I whirl around, my dress swishing around my ankles, to see Dorota leaning out of the town car frantically waving the Manolo satin shoe that I believed to be on my right foot. As I glance down, I spot one velvet shoe and one satin shoe. "Give me the shoe!"

I hold out my manicured hands as though to catch it and Dorota gently tosses it to me. Although the only sports I have only played in my life are tennis and field hockey, I manage to catch it like a pro baseball player. Swapping the shoes, I chuck the velvet one back at Dorota and make a graceful sprint back inside.

After drinking and reluctantly dancing my way through the reception, all that's keeping me from a much-needed rest back at home is the bouquet toss. Now, this is my favorite part of a wedding reception. Not because I'm desperate enough to believe catching a bouquet is the ticket to a wedding, or even that I need it. No, instead it serves as the prime opportunity for me to shine and be in the spotlight. Whether it takes a well-maneuvered sidestep or a subtle shove, I am always the one to catch the bouquet. _Always._

I position myself right in line with the bride, eyes narrowed and ignorant of the excited buzz around me. I maintain my razor-sharp focus as the bride hurls the bouquet behind her and it soars through the air. As expected, it's heading straight for me and I outstretch my arms, ready to catch it. It's just at my fingertips when all of a sudden, everything turns to darkness.

I flutter open my eyes to see a blur of faces hovering above me. After blinking a few more times, my vision clears and I see precisely three people looking at me with great interest as I lay across the dancefloor. The closest and most central of which is an unfamiliar man who is actually quite handsome despite his rumpled hair. He wears a slim-fitting black suit and an expression of concern. His formerly furrowed brow relaxes as he watches my eyes open. Then, he turns to the other two who I now see are Kati and Isabel.

"I need a bottle of vodka and an ibuprofen, STAT." He barks at the two who get up obediently and march off on their mission.

"Are you a doctor?" I say wearily, gingerly pressing my hand to my forehead.

"No, but they weren't doing any good hovering so I got rid of them." He says, the faint trace of concern still etched across his forehead.

"No truer words have ever been said about those two." I give a weak laugh. Kati and Isabel return and the mystery guy takes the vodka and little cup with a pill and sets it on the table next to us.

"Are you okay? That was a pretty bad fall." He offers his hand to help me up.

I take it and slowly rise up, feeling faint as I get on my feet. He quickly brings a chair behind me and directs me to sit which I do, feeling much better now. I brush away the wrinkles that have formed on my long pale pink pleated gown. "So who was responsible for my head injury?" I say, already plotting that person's demise.

"Girl with the long brown hair over there. The one taking selfies with the bouquet." He points across the room and I see Penelope Shafai, arm outstretched and making a kissy face with the bouquet by her cheek.

"That bitch. Did she even pretend to be concerned for me?" I say, not taking my glaring eyes off of her.

"Sort of, I guess. But then she ran off pretty quickly to apparently update her Instagram story." He says disapprovingly.

I turn back to face him and offer my gratitude but then realize I still don't know his name. "Well, thanks for helping me…" I trail off, indicating for him to fill in the blank.

"Dan," He offers his hand for me to shake and I take it. "Dan Humphrey."

"Blair Waldorf." I glance around at the now mostly empty room. "How long was I out for?"

"Only a couple minutes. But I guess a girl suffering a mild concussion isn't exactly party inducing so most people took off." Dan shrugs.

"I probably should too." Blair stifles a yawn. "I'm exhausted and probably need to be seen by a doctor in the morning."

Dan nods, "To be safe, I would. Can I walk you out? You still look a little dizzy."

"I'm fine," I rise to my feet but my words are contradicted when I sway a little.

He raises his eyebrows and not saying anything, offers his elbow which I link mine through.

"By the way, I enjoyed the fashion show earlier." Dan says as we make our way to the exit.

I look at him blankly. "The fashion show?"

"Yes, I really loved the mismatched shoes. I thought it could be quite the trend." He gives me a wry smile and realization dawns on me.

"Oh, that." I say, trying to think of a good explanation. I guess it would seem a little odd witnessing that with no context. I decide for the truth. Whether it's my head injury or the physical exhaustion, I don't have the energy to think of a lie. "I was in two weddings tonight and had to go back and forth between them."

"Two weddings?" He looks at me with widened eyes. "How is that even possible?"

"A car stocked with attire for both, many cups of coffee, and a trusty helper." I point to Dorota who's standing outside the car bundled in a beige wrap coat. I glance back at him and I suddenly feel a rare urge to be generous, "Want a ride home? You did help me and I'd like to say thank you in some way."

"That's not necessary." He shakes his head. "Besides, you should get home right away to rest and put ice on your injury."

"Really, it's no trouble. I can have my driver drop you off after me so it won't even delay me getting home. Where do you live?" I ask him as we reach the car.

"Williamsburg."

I wrinkle my nose, automatically. Just when I was beginning to like him too... I nod. "In that case, you will definitely be dropped off second."

"Thanks, again, I appreciate it." He says climbing into the car after me. Once I'm buckled in, I pull out my phone to check my texts. I see 12 from Serena and decide they will have to wait until I'm home. Probably another sordid story of her fabulous life in Milan or whatever European city she's traipsing at the moment. I set the phone down beside me and turn back to Dan.

"So are you a professional bridesmaid?" He asks me, playfully.

I shake my head, "No, thankfully. I'm Chief Operating Officer of Port Publishing."

"Wow, that's impressive. You can't be more than, what? 25?" He says, eyeing me.

"27, actually." I clarify, feeling a bit inflated by his compliment. I've been buying more and more anti-aging creams lately, terrified of acquiring wrinkles so his guess pleases me. I make a mental note to restock on my supply of La Prairie caviar skin cream.

"Still, I don't know many other 27-year-old COOs. Especially ones that find the time to be bridesmaids. I have to ask though, why did you agree to such a commitment? I find attending one wedding in a day to be grueling enough." He winces, dramatically.

"Oh, what a surprise, a man who hates marriage." I say sardonically as I glance down at his left hand and confirm that he indeed is unmarried.

"It's not that I hate marriage, per se. I just find the whole concept to be dated and as a modern woman yourself you should see how misogynistic weddings and marriages are." He says cynically.

"I don't see what's so misogynistic about declaring your love in front of everyone you know and vowing to spend the rest of your life with someone." I counter. "You probably are just one of those assholes who claims problem with the institution when reality, you'd rather not be tied down so you can screw whoever whenever you want." I roll my eyes and scoot further toward the edge of the seat.

"On the contrary," He replies calmly. "I have no problem with commitment at all."

"Right," I say sarcastically. "Anyways, what do you do?" I ask him, eager to deflect.

"I'm a writer at the New York Times."

"Ah, good for you. A real writer then." I'm mildly impressed.

"I'm not sure I'd say that." He uses a self-deprecating tone. "You haven't read what I write."

Before I can ask him what it is that he writes, we pull up at my place. "This is me." I say lamely, feeling a bit awkward. I extend my hand, "It was… _interesting_ to meet you."

"You too." He seems to think and then speaks again. "If you ever want to debate marriage or perhaps another topic again, you should give me a call and we can go for a drink." He profers his business card but I don't take it.

"I think I'll pass. But thank you, have a good night." I shut the door behind me, not looking back.

So bleary-eyed from the exhaustion of the day and from the fall I took, I don't even notice my missing phone as I exit the town car.

It's not until later that I finally realize it's gone. As I stand over the sink, scrubbing away the last of traces of my bridesmaid duties from my face, I hear a faint door at the voice. "Ms. Blair?"

"Come in, Dorota." I dab at my face with an Egyptian cotton towel and turn to face her in the doorway. There she stands with my phone in her hand, the flecks of glitter dotting the case shimmering.

"You left this in car." She says handing me the phone.

"Oh," I say, blinking in confusion. I could've sworn I had it that whole time. "Thanks, Dorota."

"Also, Ms. Serena call landline and say you must call back. Very urgent." Dorota says, reminding me of all the unanswered texts I had from her. I feel a pang of worry and realize that something could be wrong.

"I'll call her now." I shut the door behind her and dial Serena.

"B! Finally!" Serena's cheery tone immediately makes my worries dissipate.

"S, what is going on? I had a million texts from you and Dorota said you had something urgent to tell me." I say in an annoyance. It's so like her to be dramatic. She probably just thought she made out with Leo DiCaprio again but it never turns out to actually be him.

"Um yes," Serena exclaims. "I am currently at the airport waiting to board the next flight home. I thought you'd want to know that your best friend is finally homeward bound."

"Oh my god, S!" I glance around frantically. "You should have told me sooner. I'll have to have Dorota prepare the guest room right away."

"Blair, you know I don't care about that. I'll sleep in your bed if I need to. I just can't wait to be back in the city. Oh, wait," She pauses and I hear a faint announcement come down the line. "That's my flight, gotta board now. But I get in at 9 AM tomorrow and will take a cab straight to your place. So be up and ready! Love you, B."

"Love you too, S. See you soon." I hang up, feeling a mix of emotions. It's been so long since I've seen her in person. It's like I missed her immensely but at the same time have gotten so accustomed to a long-distance friendship, I'll have no clue how to pick things up. 9 AM, I groan to myself. So early after such a long day but it is what it is. I open up my calendar app to add in her arrival details and notice I already have something scheduled for tomorrow.

Frowning at my phone, I click the date and see the following penciled in:

 _Drinks with Dan Humphrey_

 _7 PM_

What the fuck? I definitely didn't put that in. I notice dots on each Friday for the next 6 months and see they all say the same exact thing. He even added himself to my contacts. I feel so violated! I can't believe he went on my phone. He must have done it in the car on the way back to Brooklyn. That hipster asshole. Doesn't he know going through someone else's phone is practically sacrilege?

Too tired to even think more about Dan Humphrey and his antics, I lock my phone and climb into bed. As I lay, struggling to fall asleep despite my fatigue, I feel the slightest flutter in my stomach as I replay the memory of waking from my fall to see his soft brown eyes on mine.


	2. Chapter 2

The scent of citrus and sandalwood floods my nostrils as Serena throws her arms around me the second she bursts through the penthouse elevator. Even though we saw each other over the holidays, it feels like being reunited with a long-lost sibling. I take in her appearance and realize she's somehow even more beautiful than I remember.

"So, catch me up on everything that's happened while I've been gone." She demands as soon as we're sitting around my kitchen island with mimosas in front of us and full breakfast spread.

I start with the basics, "Well you managed to miss the most sinfully boring wedding of the year which would be Isabel's. But epic drama ensued at Kati's when she tried to outdo Isabel and they literally nearly came to physical violence over whose wedding has the tallest cake. Extensions may have been shed and tears definitely were."

"No," Serena says, eyes wide with wonder. "How did I miss that? B, I feel so behind." She looks a bit crestfallen so I decide to cheer her up.

"You'll fit right back in. Let's see, what's the first social event coming up?" I open up my calendar app and roll my eyes at the filled up Friday nights. With the excitement of Serena's arrival, I completely forgot to deal with that.

"What's up?" Serena surveys me and I look up.

"Oh nothing," I say vaguely. "So tomorrow night I'm having this super fun work mixer you could come to. It has the makings of all ragers; balding execs, office politics, etc."

Serena's eyes light up with mock excitement. "As amazing as that sounds, a few friends from my old agency asked to get drinks tomorrow night. Maybe I can meet up with you after though?"

"I don't blame you, I'd rather hang out with a bunch of hot models too. But at least we have today together. Shopping? I need a new dress for tomorrow." I ask even though I already know the answer.

As we navigate the expansive racks of silk, chiffon, and embellished dresses that afternoon, I glance over at Serena. As always, her hair is shimmering, her skin looks glowy, and her outfit which took her all of 3 minutes to put together has that effortlessly chic thing going on that I can never achieve. I bite my lip, thinking. "Hey S, what would you wear to look sexy but like you're not trying to be?"

She turns sharply, eyeing me suspiciously. "Why do you ask? Someone you're trying to impress?"

"No one in particular," I lie.

"Liar." She says, narrowing her eyes. "But maybe this one?" She holds out a black high neck mini dress with a lace yoke.

"Hm," I eye it, taking in the short hemline.

"I know, it's a little short but it's balanced out by the neckline. Just try it." She thrusts it at me before I can protest further. She ends up being right, it's just right so I find myself checking out with it and a pair of lace-up black sandals to go with it.

"Whoever your mystery guy is, he won't be able to resist you wearing that." Serena says as we walk out of the store.

"Thanks, S. Should we go somewhere else to find you something though?" I say feeling bad she's walking away empty handed.

She shakes her head adamantly, "Let's go back to your place and talk more. That sounds like perfection right about now."

Monday morning I walk into work in the black dress paired with tights and a blazer which I plan on ditching right at 5 PM. I press my crimson lips together in nervous anticipation as I pass the receptionist's desk. "Good morning, Nelly."

"Morning Ms. Waldorf." She chirps back, peering at me from behind her oversized frames.

"Stop." I hear a dramatic voice come from behind me and feel a hand placed on my arm. "Where did the real Blair Waldorf go and how can I make sure she never comes back because I am loving the new Blair."

I roll my eyes as I turn to face Georgina, my best work friend. "Shut up, Georgie." I look around to see if she's caused a total scene. Luckily it looks like she hasn't since everyone is still sporting the same void expressions with empty, hollow eyes that are so common on Monday mornings.

Georgina lowers her voice a few octaves, "Now, I wonder who this little number could be for?" She flicks her long, dark hair back and her ice-blue eyes meet mine. I ignore her, continuing toward my office and stop in my tracks as I spy a massive bouquet of flowers on my desk. I turn to face her, eyes wide with curiosity.

She shrugs, "If that worked without him even seeing him, even I will be impressed."

I walk over to the flowers and pick up the card nervously, my hands trembling. But I only discover the business name of the florist and no name or significant note. Georgina snatches it out of my hands and it flips it over once, twice, and then raises her eyebrows. "Someone's got a secret admirer."

I sigh longingly toward his office, imagining him calling up the florist to send the bouquet. No, not possible, I decide. "I guess we'll never know. Anyways, go back to your desk Georgie and try to get some work done for once." I shove her out of my office door and start leading her down the hallway. I'm halted though as soon as I hear his voice from behind me and feel the familiar flutter that always accompanies that sound.

"Morning, Nate. How was your weekend?" I say, letting my arms fall away from their puppeteer pose on Georgina.

Nate looks at me with an amused smile. "Good, yours? How was that wedding?"

I feel a happy bubble form up and I can't stop my face from spreading into a wide smile. "It was great, thanks for asking."

"Glad to hear it." He pauses, "Hey did you get what I left for you on your desk? I hope that was okay."

I can't breathe. I can't speak. I am frozen as I replay what I just heard. My reverie is broken when I feel a sharp jab in my back. I nod furiously, "Yes, of course. It was perfect."

"Good," He smiles at me. "Thank you, Blair. I'll see you tonight, right?"

"I wouldn't miss it." I smile even wider, the gobsmacked expression not leaving my face even as he walks away.

Once he's gone, I stay rooted to the ground, thoughts swimming in my endorphin-overloaded brain. I come back to consciousness when Georgina grabs me by the shoulders and faces me head on. "Blair, _this is happening._ So play it cool, okay? Don't get too caught up in the excitement. You ditch those tights and that jacket ASAP and show up to that mixer looking hotter than hell and seal the deal. Okay?"

I nod vigorously, delirious with anticipation. I can barely focus on work the whole day. All I can think about is that Nate Archibald has finally noticed me. After 4 years of being his best friend and 5 years of being his subordinate, he wants me, Blair Waldorf. I remind myself, of course he does, _I am Blair Waldorf._ V _aledictorian, sophisticated socialite, and trendsetter._ But why now? I can't help but wonder as I strip off my stockings that evening and throw them into my purse. What does it matter? I ask myself, swiping my lips with another layer of red.

At the bar, I order a gin and tonic, eager to down a drink before I have to face him again. I let the cool liquid slide down my throat, feeling a bit of nervous energy dissipate.

"Better?" Georgina asks me.

"One more, I think." I order another and she shakes her head.

"Strike one. Never have your drink already full, it has to be empty so he can get you another. Down that, now." She instructs me with a no-nonsense expression.

I obediently drink the rest of it and just then we see Nate entering the bar at the door to our left. "How do I look?" I ask her before he can spot me.

She tousles my curls and then gives a satisfied smile. "Like someone, he should have noticed a long time ago."

I look back at him and see he's now got a small smile at the edges of his lips and I wonder if he's anticipating this just as much as I am. I wish he would turn his head and meet my eyes. _Be patient, Blair,_ I remind myself. I take a deep breath, steeling myself. The oxygen stays suspended in my lungs as I spot an all too familiar array of perfectly arranged blonde waves out of the corner of my eyes.

 _No, not now._

Serena's ocean blue eyes are fixed on him and just like a scene out of a movie they are bounding toward one another, eyes not leaving each other. I look back and forth, as though watching an intense sports match. I'm not seeing this right, I tell myself but then I see them get within a few feet of each other. He seems to say something and she gives a flirty smile and says something back, tossing her hair back as she does.

Finally, I spring into action, making a beeline for them. "Hey S, what are you doing here?" I demand in a bossy tone.

"Oh, hey, B." She says, looking surprised to see me. _Me._ Even though it's my work event that I invited her to.

"Aren't you supposed to be sipping on vodka sodas with a bunch of Amazons?" I ask, desperately.

She shakes her head. "I thought I should come meet the people that deprive me of my best friend."

"That would be me." Nate extends his hand. "She has the misfortune of being my employee."

 _His employee?_ That's what I have been reduced to? I feel anger bubbling up, how dare Serena march in and ruin this for me.

"Sounds pretty fortunate to me," Serena says, a coy expression across her face. "I'm Serena by the way."

"Nate Archibald." He holds her hand for a little too long after they shake. "How do you know Blair?"

She wraps an arm around me, making me feel tiny and inferior. "She's practically my sister. We've been best friends since birth, basically."

Nate nods. "Well, we're both lucky then, aren't we? Blair practically runs my life, I don't know what I'd do without her. I mean, even today, she let me leave an errand request on her desk. Can you believe I asked her to buy my mom her birthday present?" Spots of pink cross his cheeks, accompanying his bashful tone. It's charming because everything he does is charming. The words make Blair's heart sink.

"Well, Blair does have pretty amazing taste, I mean she chooses to work for you, so I don't blame her." Serena lays it on thick.

Nate laughs, "You should join us. But first, can I get you a drink?"

I watch, feeling as invisible as I am to him, as they saunter off to the bar together. People actually turn to stare at them. That's how attractive the pair of them are.

And just like that, I feel like the most foolish person in the world. Of course, he didn't send me flowers. Of course, he met Serena and fell in love with her in an instant. And I am a hopeless idiot who will never get the guy when my best friend looks like that.

"What the fuck just happened?" Georgina demands, walking up from behind me.

"He left me a note asking to buy his mom a present. Not flowers." I look at her, unbidden tears welling in my eyes.

"Blair," Georgina gives me a rare sympathetic look. Then she glares at where Serena is flirtatiously leaning in towards Nate and clinking his glass. "That bitch, does she always have to steal the spotlight?"

"Georgina, it's not her fault. I mean, who wouldn't want to be the guy at the bar with her right now? Take a look around." I gesture at the men whose eyes are fixed on Serena's long golden legs. "Anyways, I think this is my cue to leave."

"No way, you can't leave me here. Who am I going to hang out with? Nelly?" She pulls a face and I give a weak laugh. "Besides you still look hot and there's plenty of other available guys. How about Hunter from Design?"

"Too blonde." I shake my head. "There's no point in me sticking around tonight. We both know why I came to this thing in the first place."

Georgina sighs, "Okay, if you're sure."

I nod and kiss her on the cheeks goodbye. Then I reluctantly head over to Serena to say goodbye, not that she'd notice if I was gone, judging by the rapt attention she's paying to Nate.

"I'm heading home, S." I say, tapping her on the shoulder.

"Already?" She frowns but I can tell instantly it's fake. "Do you want me to come home with you or should I meet you back later?" She gives me a pleading look and I know what she wants me to say.

Like the dutiful best friend I always am I say, "Stay out and have fun. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, B." She wraps her arms around me and whispers a thank you into my year.

"Get home safely, Blair." Nate calls after me and I cringe in memory at this morning. How did I ever think he actually liked me?

The final blow comes when I check my phone at home and see the words, "Did you like your flowers? I hope you're feeling better." splayed across the screen. _Sender?_ Dan Humphrey. All the confirmation I need that Nate never has and never will show any interest in me. I swipe to delete the text and sink into the couch in despair.

A newspaper on the table catches my eye and I remember I never read today's copy of The New York Times. I pick it up and flip forward to my favorite section, Weddings. I scan and my eyes land on his name, Lincoln Hall. This week's column sparkles with dazzling prose and sentences that spring tears to my eyes. Someday, I think to myself, I just know that someday I will be the star of this section.

I clip the article and stick it in the folder where I keep all of his articles. I know it makes me seem like a tragic loser but really it's a reminder. A reminder that someday all of these weddings will pay off. Afterall, they're all just rehearsals for when I'm center stage and all eyes are on me. I'll know the exact pace to walk down the aisle, unlike Kati who practically sprinted down the aisle, and I'll know the exact time to take my wedding photos so it's worthy of The Knot's front page. All of the little details that everyone else overlooks, I'll have on lockdown.

I begin reading through all the old clippings, my emotions soaring and falling with each and every sentence I read. I don't even realize how late it is until the elevator doors ping and I see Serena walking through, looking elated. "You're still up?"

I quickly close the folder and try to shove it back in the drawer. But I'm too late and Serena picks it up. "Are you seriously working right now?" She flips through and then begins to laugh. "B, are these wedding announcements? You are so cute! Who is this? Lincoln Hall? They're all by him."

"They're nothing. It's research for a new book that an author we publish is working on." I lie as I snatch away the folder before she can steal my joy away from that, too.

"Sure." She says skeptically, still smirking.

"How was your night?" I try for nonchalant but fail. She doesn't seem to notice though as she practically floats on the chaise beside me.

"Dreamy." She lets her head fall back onto the tufted backing. "How did you never mention to me that you were working for Adonis?"

"Adonis? That's a bit of an overstatement." I scoff, as though that's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard even though it's totally true.

"Don't even try to tell me you haven't noticed." She tilts her head, giving me a look. "Anyways, the whole night was perfect. He asked me out! We're going on a date tomorrow night."

The stab of jealousy hits me right in the heart and I almost think I might faint or puke or something from the pain. But I don't instead, I do what any best friend would do. "I'm so happy for you, S."

"Thanks, B. You have no idea how much I needed this." Her face lights up. "So tell me more about him. What is he like?"

I hesitate, "Well, I mean he's very driven. In college, he was always coming up with ideas for his family's business. He would make plans for when he took over, like the green initiative. As soon as he started at the company, he had research done on switching to an eco-friendly printing method and focusing more on ebooks. Which he followed through on. Also, he's really charitable and involved with the community." Now that I'm on a roll, I'm finding it hard to stop. "He volunteers at a soup kitchen every Thanksgiving and is a mentor to at-risk youth. Oh and he's an animal activist. He's been a vegetarian since freshman year of college and only consumes free-range eggs and abstains from dairy."

"Wow," Serena breathes. "He's even more perfect than I thought."

I freeze, realizing my error. "But he has flaws, you can't overlook those."

Her eyes widen, "Like what?"

"For starters," I take on a dramatic tone. "He's never had a relationship longer than two years. I think that's a bit of a red flag."

"Neither have I," She says shrugging and then eyes me more sharply. "Or you for that matter."

"No, I have." I say defensively. "James and I were together for almost 3 years."

"Okay, fine. Though I must point out you never even let him sleep over." She waves her hand away. "Nate just sounds really busy with work and charity so I'm sure he hasn't had the right time to meet someone. Any other things I should know of?"

"He won't eat anything with tomatoes. I mean, as a vegetarian, that just seems a bit ridiculous to me. Like then, what does he eat?"

"Blair, that's hardly a deal breaker." Serena laughs.

"I'm just saying, you can never be too cautious." I stifle a yawn and glance at the clock. "Anyways, I'm going to bed now. But we'll talk more in the morning, okay?"

Serena nods and murmurs a goodnight, clearly still in a state of bliss.

I wake up hoping that it was all a bad dream. That I'll wake up to an apartment sans Serena and head into work, pass by Nate's desk thinking wistfully about him, and maybe stop by Georgina's and have a good laugh over her latest dating antics. But no. Instead, I wake up to the intoxicating fumes of nail polish as Serena gives herself a manicure at my coffee table, sitting in front of a pile of magazines.

"S? What are you doing?" I stare in puzzlement at the sight that clearly seems out of place for 7:30 AM on a Tuesday morning.

"Preparing for my date, obviously." She rolls her eyes. "Remember?"

"At 7:30 AM? Is it a morning thing?" I picture them smiling over coffees and bagels and feel another wave of nausea.

"No but I have so much to do! I couldn't get fitted in for a nail appointment so I figured I'd just do it myself. Then I need to go get my hair cut and dyed, get a spray tan, and go shopping all by 6 PM." She lets out an exhausted breath.

"Wow, what a difficult day you have ahead of you." I reply sardonically. "Meanwhile, I'll be spending the next 8 hours in an office dealing with financial reports, quarterly reviews, and whatever else needs to be dealt with." I give her an exasperated look.

"Sounds fun, _not._ " Serena says, applying another coat of polish. "Anyways, have a good day at work. Don't wait up for me tonight." She gives me a wink which makes me think about not coming home at all tonight.

"Bye," I say hurrying out of the penthouse before she can make any other innuendos.

"Guess who has a date tonight?" I say deadpan as I reach Georgina's office.

She drops her mouth open, "No. Don't tell me."

"Yep. 6 PM. He's taking her to Le Rouge, squeezed in a reservation with his 'connections.'"

"That bitch!" Georgina exclaims loudly and I shush her, glancing around to see if anyone heard. "Let's sabotage their date." She cocks an eyebrow.

For a second, I contemplate it. I consider calling the tanning salon Serena is booked at and telling them their 4 o'clock requests their darkest tan possible. I can just see it now, her freaking out over being oranger than a pumpkin. But then I shake my head. "I can't do that to her. She'd find out eventually and never forgive me."

"Boo," Georgina frowns. "You're no fun. By the way, who were those flowers actually from?"

I groan, "Don't even get me started on that." I walk out of her office before she can question me further.

I barely make it through the day. My mind keeps wandering to the possibilities between Nate and Serena. I can already envision their perfect golden family now. She'll probably be pregnant by the end of the night, I sigh and pack up my bag as I see it's already 6:30 PM.

I try to console myself with an Audrey movie but even that doesn't help. I obviously don't end up choosing Breakfast at Tiffany's. The last thing I need is to taint my favorite movie with the memory of it being the night of Serena and Nate's first date. So instead I choose Two For The Road but watching Jo and Mark makes me feel lonelier than ever. I'm already 27 and have yet to have a significant long-term relationship. Serena was right, James and I were basically strangers even though we dated for a couple of years. I don't even think I knew his parent's' names. I switch off the movie before it even ends, feeling defeated.

As predicted, Serena doesn't come home until the early morning hours. I hear the elevator ding and see it's 3 AM when she's finally rolling in. Throwing a pillow over my head, I try to fall back asleep and not to imagine what they did until that hour.

I run into Nate, literally, the following morning. "Oh, sorry," I say stepping back and looking into his eyes which have the trace of a smile at the corners. I can only presume he was up just as late as Serena yet his eyes still sparkle and his skin still glows. I, on the other hand, had to apply ten layers of concealer to cover up my undereye circle and use up nearly a whole palette of highlighter to counteract the fatigue etched across my face.

"Blair, I actually was hoping to speak to you today. Do you mind coming into my office for a moment?" He says ushering me down the hallway.

I feel a rush of nerves and already start playing out scenarios. Me getting fired, me getting replaced by Serena as COO, but before I can reel out more outlandish ideas we're inside and sitting across from one another.

"Sorry, this may be a little…" He falters. "Unprofessional but I needed to ask you something."

Unprofessional? Maybe he's finally realized he's overlooked me. Perhaps their date was a total catastrophe and he needs consoling. I feel a bubble of hope rising as I now concoct far happier scenarios than the former.

I nod, urging him on so he continues. "I realized I never asked you if it would be weird for you if I asked out Serena."

"Oh," I say, crestfallen.

At my silence, he goes on. "It's just, I've never met anyone like her and I just felt something, the second I saw her. You know that feeling?"

 _All too well_ , I think but don't say aloud. I nod instead.

"After last night, I realized that I really think this is _the girl_. So I needed to check with you that it's fine I continue seeing her. Even though you and I are friends, I do still feel an obligation given our working relationship to check since after all she is your friend first and I wouldn't want my relationship with her to interfere with the work we do here."

This is the girl? After one date? _For fuck's sake._ I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. I muster up my most professional tone before speaking. "I appreciate you considering my feelings but I assure you, it won't be a problem." As soon as I've spoken the words, I can't help but wonder what would have played out had I said I did mind. Well, either way, it wouldn't have looked very good on my part.

"Great," Nate beams at me, his brightest smile. The one that always makes my heart stop for a second. Except for today, Because that smile isn't for me, it's all for Serena. "Thanks so much, Blair for being so understanding. I can always count on you." He pats my arm as I stand to leave and make my way towards the door.

"Of course," I mumble tersely, wanting to run far far away. Maybe I should look up flights to Paris when I get home...

* * *

With that conversation with Nate serving as a precursor, I shouldn't be surprised with what happens three weeks later. But yet, I still reel back in shock the second Serena arrives home with a giant, _in your face_ , diamond ring on her finger and loudly proclaims, "I said yes!" Her face as ecstatic as that of a child on Christmas morning, if not more.

I should have booked that flight to Paris after all...

As tears prick my eyes, I hug her tightly, trying to hide them. I have no reason to worry though, she thinks I'm just having the reaction of any good best friend, overwhelming joy. Even though that's far from my feeling.

That night, after two glasses of wine, okay actually more like three, I pull out my phone. I go my into contacts and select, Dan Humphrey. I click on Message and type the following:

 _Still on for those drinks?_

His reply comes approximately 8 minutes later, a suitable amount of time to pass. Not too eager but not too delayed.

 _When and where?_

I smile as I type:

 _Tomorrow night, 7 PM, The Carlyle_

That night, I fall asleep not feeling like a totally lonely loser. So what if the only guy that's shown the slightest bit of interest in me (besides the construction workers on my way to work) is a Brooklynite? I've got to move on sometime.

* * *

 **I rarely (if ever) use Georgina in my stories so I thought this was the perfect opportunity. I thought she'd make the perfect snarky side character, so I hope you agree. Also James is indeed Marcus just Blair never got close enough with him to know he was actually a prince incognito. Also, hopefully that time jump wasn't too jarring. If you've seen the movie then you know that's it's necessary. The next chapter will also explain a bit more :) Thanks so much for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

It's Friday night and for the first time in a long time, I'm not alone. Instead, I'm with Dan Humphrey, who happens to be just as cute as I remembered. I thought perhaps my fall had rendered my judgment inept the night of the wedding but his cheekbones are just as sharp as I remember. And so is his wit.

We're sitting at the bar in The Carlyle and I must admit, so far I haven't regretted my decision to meet up with him tonight. He showed up on time, looks presentable, somewhat unruly hair aside, and has been chivalrous. Then again, it's not like I have any other relevant experiences lately to compare to.

After ordering us drinks, he looks at me. "So what made you finally decide to meet me for drinks? It's been what? Three weeks?" Dan glances at his phone's calendar to confirm the amount of time that has passed.

I take a deep sip of my gin cocktail, savoring the strong flavor of the herbal infused alcohol. "Serena is getting married." I say it like I've just announced the country is on the brink of war.

"Serena?" He stares at me blankly waiting for further explanation.

I sigh, "She's my best friend, but basically my sister. We've been best friends for our entire lives." It's the only way I can explain us.

"And you wanted to get married first?" He deducts falsely.

I shake my head. "It's not that. It's just, well, you don't know Serena so it's hard to explain. But long story short, the whole wedding will fall on me. All of the planning. I'll have to decide on the caterers, go to all the alteration fittings, taste the cake, book the band…" I trail off, winded.

"So don't." Dan says simply.

I turn and give him an incredulous look. "You're kidding?"

"Why would I be? If all of that sounds so exhausting to you, just don't do it. It's not your wedding so it's not your responsibility." He shrugs and takes a sip of his beer.

"I can't just say no. Our friendship… It's always been a little rocky. But for the past few years, it's been really good so I don't want to ruin that by saying no when she needs me most." I take another gulp of my drink. "Anyways, to properly answer your question. I finally agreed to this," I gesture between us. "Because I really needed a drink and being in the company of a total marriage hater seemed suitable."

"Fair enough," Dan relents.

After that, he doesn't press me anymore on Serena and it feels good to have a break from talking about her.

"So battled over any more bouquets lately?" The smile he gives me makes me laugh in memory.

"No, but karma really was a bitch for Penelope after that." I'm excited to have a new topic to discuss, one that actually cheers me. "Coming off her high from catching the bouquet, she got a little overconfident. She was convinced that the next guy who asked her out had to be the one. Long story short, she ended up dating a guy that sniffed glue for three weeks."

"Glue?" Dan asks. "I didn't realize people still did that."

"Apparently so, Penelope kept trying to justify it too as a treatment for his migraines," I smirk. "She finally admitted that it turned out he was on parole and was too nervous to be caught buying drugs again."

"Well, at least that's one less wedding you have to be in." Dan remarks.

"What about you? Why were you at that wedding anyway? I don't think you ever told me." I realize suddenly.

"Oh," Dan looks down at his beer. "It was a work thing."

"You work with the groom?" I surmise.

"You could say that." Dan asks and then changes the topic onto that of my job. I bounce back to asking him more about his but still, he's vague. I decide he must not be a very good writer or must just be an intern because why else would he be so shy about it?

Despite his mysteriousness, we have a good time and I stay for two more rounds of drinks. We laugh like old friends and I realize I should have put myself out there and met someone new a long time ago.

I relish in the ease of the evening until I realize it's past 10 and I have work in the morning. Dan pays for the drinks and helps me into my coat, leading me outside. But it's once we're outside in the brisk air that I realize I have no idea what the appropriate goodbye gesture is. Was this a date? Or just friends hanging out?

I decide to go neutral, swaying a little in my heels. "This was surprisingly fun. Thank you, I think it's what I needed."

Dan smiles and nods. "Will I see you again soon? Or not until another friend in which you have a complicated relationship announces their engagement?" He asks wryly.

I pretend to ponder it, "Perhaps you'll see me sooner than you think. I have your number, anyway." I hold up my phone and pretend to be annoyed.

He chuckles, amused as I step forward and hail a cab. "I hope you kept those Friday nights penciled in."

"I guess you'll find out." I shoot him a coy smile before climbing into my cab.

The smile stays on my face until I get home and see Serena sitting on my cab. For a little while, I had forgotten all about her.

"Where were you?" Serena asks with keen interest.

I'm mildly offended because the implication is clear. She thinks my social life sans her is nonexistent and I would have nowhere else to be but at home reading more articles by Lincoln Hall. Well, she couldn't be more wrong.

"Out." I say vaguely. "Drinks at The Carlyle."

"Oooh," Serena says raising her eyebrows. "With who? I know The Carlyle isn't exactly Georgina's scene. Didn't you say she always complains they skimp on alcohol there?"

"She says that about everywhere." I wave her comment away.

"You didn't answer my question." Serena points out.

"With a guy. _A friend._ "

"A friend? I want details. Are you sure it's just a friend?" She presses.

I roll my eyes and ignore her. "I'm going to bed. It's a Sunday which means I have work in the morning, unlike some people." I shoot her a meaningful look as I rise from the couch and head for my room.

"Okay, okay. But I expect details at some point. Oh, I almost forgot. I have a favor to ask." I turn back from the door to my bedroom to see her in the hallway giving me her 'pretty please' look and groan.

"What is it?" I say a little impatiently.

"Do you think you could use one of your connections to book Nate and I a cake tasting appointment at Magnolia next weekend? Preferable Sunday since Saturday he has his volunteer thing."

"I'll try." I say noncommittally. "Goodnight, S."

"Night, B." Her beaming smile shines across the hallway.

* * *

The atmosphere is syrupy sweet as Serena, Nate, and I walk into Magnolia Bakery on Sunday morning. It's eerily quiet, not even open yet for business, and only the occasional whirl of a mixer can be heard. Serena and Nate have the face of children walking into a candy factory as they survey the delicate desserts being neatly arranged in the windows.

"Blair, I can't believe you managed to get us in here on such short notice. You really are the best." Serena gives me a gracious look.

I lead us straight to the head chef, eager to get this over with. Saying I feel like a third wheel would be a bit pointless because of course, I do. Who accompanies a couple on their cake tasting other than their planner? It makes it so much worse that I'm single.

"Ms. Waldorf, I am so pleased to see you again." The chef shakes my hand and then I introduce him to Nate and Serena. "So this is the happy couple? I hear you two lovebirds are very eager to get married."

"We are," Serena links her arm through Nate's, inciting yet another feeling of nausea. "We can't wait to be Mr. and Mrs. Archibald. We just know one of your cakes will be perfect for our special day.

I stifle a retching noise. "Let's get to it, shall we? We only have 30 minutes before our next appointment." I remind Serena curtly.

The chef answers instead. "Of course, Ms. Waldorf. Miss van der Woodsen and Mr. Archibald, if you'll just follow me this way we can get started on the tasting." He leads us out of the kitchen and toward the dining area which is neatly set up with nearly a dozen different cakes. All of them are exquisitely presented and each is accompanied by a few squares of cut pieces.

We're all still staring at them with wonder when the sound of footsteps breaks the quiet. Then, there's a voice which I swear I recognize. But it can't be, because what would he be doing here?

"Am I late?" I turn around to see… _what the fuck?_ It is Dan Humphrey!

"Oh good, you made it!" Serena rushes over to him and proffers her hand. "I'm Serena and this is my fiance Nate-"

I march over and I interrupt their introductions. I'm being rude, but I don't care. I need answers. Now. "What are you doing here?"

Serena looks between us confusedly. "You know him personally, Blair? I thought you were more of an admirer from afar."

"An admirer? What are you talking about Serena?" I stare at her, bewildered.

"Lincoln Hall!" She gestures toward Dan before grasping my arm reassuringly. "Oh, she's being shy. She's your biggest fan. She saves all of your articles. You should see, she even stores them all in a-"

"No, I don't!" I say quickly as I finally catch up to the conversation. Dan... is Lincoln Hall? I still can't quite reconcile their identities but I need to stop Serena from her babbling. "I saved a couple for research purposes. It was part of my maid of honor duties a while back, I needed inspiration."

"Ah," Dan nods with a skeptical look on our face. "Right, sounds very practical."

Before Serena can say more, I push her back toward where Nate and the chef are talking. "They're waiting for you, Serena. Go start trying cakes. I'll just have a word with…" I frown. "Lincoln here."

"Call me, Dan, please." Dan corrects looking between us.

Serena dutifully goes back over toward Nate and I shove Dan into the nearest corner. "Lincoln Hall? What the fuck?" I glare at him accusatorily.

"A pseudonym. It's quite common actually." Dan says easily.

"No, how are you Lincoln Hall, the esteemed wedding writer? I thought you hated weddings and all they stood for." I cross my arms.

Dan shrugs. "I think my personal feelings on weddings is irrelevant."

"Is that so? I don't. I can't believe you are Lincoln Hall. The things you write, it just doesn't add up." I shake my head. "How do I know you aren't some imposter?"

"Name a wedding I've covered since you're such a big fan," He smirks. "I'll tell you some details from it."

"The Hampstead wedding." I say instantly, wishing I didn't know every single ceremony he covered. Now I seem more stalkerish than ever.

"The bride floated down the aisle as swaths of delicate white satin trailed behind her and the faint sound of violins filled the church-" Dan starts reciting until I cut him off.

"Okay, so you are him. But now I know Lincoln Hall is a hack." I furrow my brow. "This is such a disappointment."

"Sorry to have shattered all your hopes and dreams." Dan says sardonically.

"So why are you covering my best friend's and my boss's wedding? You had to have recognized the name since I told you about them." I turn it back around on him.

"Actually no, it was a Cecilia Rhodes that hired me. If I had known you would be here, I would have revealed myself prior to this, so as not to cause such an uproar. Although I wouldn't have guessed you would be so fixated on this."

"Cece hired you, that makes sense. Serena's grandmother would want her favorite granddaughter's wedding given as much attention as possible." I roll my eyes.

"She did request the front page of the section." Dan informs.

"Of course she did. Well, you better go get started on the coverage. It looks like there's some riveting action you're missing out on." I gesture toward Serena who's feeding Nate a piece of rosemary vanilla cake. "Meanwhile, pardon me while I go vomit."

As Dan joins them at the table, equipped with a notebook and pen, I take a seat at an empty table in the corner. I pull up my work inbox and furiously type away as I respond to emails, desperate for a distraction. This whole wedding is becoming more nightmarish by the second, first Serena gets engaged to the man I'm in love with, then she secures my favorite writer to cover her wedding, then it turns out said writer is a total fraud. It's as though I'm being punished for some horrible deed, what next? She'll probably make me wear putrid green as my maid of honor dress.

As we leave the bakery half an hour later, we all gather just outside the door. Nate and Serena are discussing next steps with Dan until he turns the focus to me. "Blair, I was thinking it would be great to get some insight from you into Nate and Serena's relationship for the article. Would you be free to meet this week?"

"I'm incredibly busy helping Serena with the wedding planning and with work so I don't think so." I respond curtly, pulling my phone out of my purse.

Nate quickly jumps in, "Blair, if it's too much on your plate I'd be happy to have Nelly help you out a bit more around the office. She did request more hours and I know how much you do for us."

"Oh, B, please help with the article!" Serena exclaims. "No one knows me better than you and it would be so special to us." Serena squeezes Nate's hand and the very sight of their clasped hands is enough to make me retreat in defeat.

"Fine, I'll text you my availability," I say tersely to Dan. "Now, I must be going. I'll speak to you later this week." I offer him my hand to shake.

"Thank you, I appreciate it." He echoes my business-like tone but gives me a wry smile.

I ignore the expression and stalk off to hail a cab before I can get roped into any more nausea-inducing favors. I shake my head to myself as I climb into the cab, sinking back into the seat and wishing I could wake up already from this bad dream.


	4. Chapter 4

**At last, a new chapter for this fic! Thank you all for waiting so patiently and for leaving words of encouragement throughout this story's hiatus. It really motivated me to come back to this story! I am really excited to say I figured a direction to take this story that differs from the movie but is still similar enough that it has the 27 Dresses feel to it. I hope you'll like where it goes! I also went back and re-edited/re-wrote the first 3 chapters. It's not necessary to re-read them since the plot is still the same but I just felt like I had to because it was sort of a grammatical mess. So consider this, The Bridesmaid and The Journalist 2.0. Thank you all again for your continued support and for not losing hope on this story.**

* * *

Apparently, interrupting yoga class with a cacophony of text alerts is highly frowned upon. This, I learn on Tuesday afternoon when both Dan and Serena simultaneously bombard my phone. The instructor, a lithe blonde woman sans makeup, bangs a gong and points to the "Digital Detox Zone" sign with a stern glare.

"For fuck's sake," I whisper to Georgina from the back row where we're currently in downward dog. "The bitch won't even give me a second to silence it." I switch it onto Do Not Disturb, not even breaking position. But not before I glance at the texts.

Dan: _Just checking in again, is Thursday good?_

Dan: _I know you're busy. But it won't take more than an hour._

Serena: _Hey have you had a chance to make plans to meet up with Dan? Thanks again B for agreeing, you're the best!_

Serena: _PS Have a surprise for you at home for being the best maid of honor ever xxx_

 _No, Serena, I haven't had time in the last 48 hours to see Dan and tell him all about your pre-wedding state of bliss_ , I mentally reply. But thinking of her last text, I exhale out my anger and remind myself of why I love her. She is undoubtedly sweet and thoughtful and for that, I have to be grateful. I just hate that I feel like I'm balancing two full-time jobs. And if I must admit, it irks me a little now that Dan went from being an unbiased outsider to which I could vent to now being entangled in this wedding madness.

Georgina takes my phone and reads the text, instantly scoffing. "What are you their personal assistant? Why the fuck can't they tell Dan about their relationship themselves? Not that anyone actually wants to read that shit."

The instructor bangs the gong once more, this time giving us an even more stern glance. Georgina and I meet eyes and then in sync, glance at the clock. This class only has ten minutes anyways. We both roll up our mats and pad out of the class as quietly as possible.

"By the way," Georgina says once we're out of the class and grabbing our stuff from the lockers. "I forgot to tell you, I googled this writer of yours and he is cute. So I guess you shouldn't complain too much about having to help him with the wedding write-up."

"He's not mine," I correct, not liking her insinuation. "We're acquaintances. Business acquaintances."

"Uh huh," Georgina nods, unconvinced. "So that's why he sends you flowers and asks you to meet him for drinks?"

"That was before I found out he was Lincoln Hall." I reply following her out the yoga studio doors. "Anyway, why does it matter? He's irrelevant."

"I just want to know if you're going snag him or not because if not, I'll gladly take him." Georgina winks at me and I wrinkle my nose in response.

"Please don't," I say instantly. "The Nate and Serena situation is sickening enough, I don't want need another gross duo to watch drool over themselves."

"Okay, B," Georgina pushes open the door to the smoothie bar we always go to after class. "I'll let you pretend that's why you don't want me to sleep with him."

Ignoring her, I order a green smoothie and step off to the side while Georgina orders and then goes to the bathroom. I pull out my phone from my bag and type a reply to Dan.

Blair: _Thursday is fine. But there better be alcohol involved._

Dan: _Of course. At least one drink deep is the only way I write these articles._

Blair: _How unsurprising coming from the marriage-hater._

Dan: _If you'd rather we can chat over a romantic comedy at 7 PM when the theater is bound to be filled with PDA-obsessed teens. Quite the ambiance I imagine..._

Blair: _Teens don't go to rom coms to make out. They go to horror movies. (*eye roll emoji*)_

Dan: _And you're such an expert on this how?_

Before I can type a witty reply I feel Georgina leaning over my shoulder. "Oh, flirting. _Totally_ business-like." She comments snarkily, her eyes still on the text exchange.

I quickly snap the phone into locked mode and make my way toward the counter to grab my smoothie. "That wasn't flirting."

"A poor attempt at flirting, I'd say." Georgina replies. "I can give you some pointers if you want. You could step it up a bit, maybe take a few pic-"

"No!" I cover my ears. "Please don't give me sexting tips. I don't need them."

"Your loss," Georgina laughs taking a sip of her strawberry smoothie. "Come on, let's go get you a new dress to wear to your date on Thursday."

I let myself be dragged by her out of the smoothie bar, but not before declaring that it definitely won't be a date.

* * *

"Yay! You're home!" Serena jumps up from the couch the moment I arrive home later that evening. "I have a present for you," She hands me a neatly wrapped box.

"What's this for?" I laugh, delicately pulling at the satin ribbon as she sits me down on the couch. The box is a large rectangle and heavy enough that I set it on my lap as I lift off the lid.

"Oh, come on, B. I know I'm not exactly the easiest best friend, especially since I'm not only making you plan my wedding but also put me up for who knows how long. You deserved something. And I saw you looking at those on Net-A-Porter the other night." She smiles brightly at me as I pull out a pair of Sophia Webster strappy sandals. They see ordinary until I spin them 360 degrees to reveal a crystal heel.

"S, these are beautiful. I can't believe you got me these." I say, instantly filled with gratitude. "I was never actually going to buy them for myself, I wasn't sure if they were a little much-"

"No, way!" Serena eases my worries. "They'll look perfect on you. I just wish we were the same size so I could snag them from you every now and then."

She bumps me playfully against the shoulder and I can't help but beam back at her. It's moments like this where I'm reminded why she's worth it. I'm so cheered by her thoughtfulness that I suggest we look up wedding dresses and for once, find the planning not so headache-inducing and sort of fun. I suggest a classy cap sleeve gown while Serena, of course, insists on a sweetheart neckline. After pinning over a dozen dresses to her Pinterest board, we log off and click on Clueless, Serena's favorite movie.

Serena drapes a blanket over us, just like old times, and for the first time since she came back, find myself grateful for her company.

* * *

I don't wear a new dress to meet Dan and I'm glad. Because I'm pretty sure he's sent me to a street corner that will likely be the death of me. Or the start of my career as a prostitute. Thank god, I didn't wear that little red dress with the high cut slit Georgina tried to make me borrow.

I wrap my trench coat around me tighter and type a furious text I look around surreptitiously. I'm standing in front of a seedy looking brick building and I counted 5 bums just on this block.

Blair: Is this a fucking joke? I thought you were interviewing me for your article on Serena's wedding. Not a story on crime in Brooklyn.

I hear a laugh resonate from behind me and spin around. It's Dan, laughing at his phone screen before he looks up at me. "Relax, Waldorf and just follow me."

"No, thank you," I elbow him sharply trying to catch up as he walks toward the steel door of the brick building. "Not until you tell me, what this is. This is the seediest neighborhood I've ever been to. I knew I shouldn't have let you talk me into coming to Brooklyn."

Dan ignores me and links his arm through mine so he can tug me to the door where he knocks in a pattern that's almost comical. The door swings open and I step closer to him, almost hiding behind him in fear of what will be behind the door.

I see just about what I expect as a ginormous man opens the door revealing only a dark corridor. "At what track did the record stop?" He asks in an ominous tone.

"Four." At Dan's reply, the door is opened fully and the man gestures for us to enter.

"Oh, god." I murmur into Dan's ear, accidentally close enough that I smell his cologne. "Is this some sex club? Am I going to be auctioned off to the highest bidder?"

"Where do you come up with these scenarios?" Dan laughs as he guides me to the left. When we round the corner, I see a 1920s style bar with dim lighting and a handful of guests sipping on cocktails. There are chandeliers with lit candles that provide an ambiance that's romantic and understated. The wallpaper is baroque and reminds me of something out of _The Great Gatsby_.

"It's a speakeasy," I breathe in awe, looking around us.

"Correct." Dan says with a smirk. "Now, will you loosen up your death grip."

I look down and see that I am indeed holding his arm with a steely grasp and drop his arm immediately. "Next time, just tell me you're taking me to a speakeasy instead of all the smoke and mirrors."

He looks at me in amusement and I realize what I just said: Next time. Like we will do this again. Like this isn't just about the article.

"No," Dan says gravely and I feel a rush of disappointment. But then his lips quirk, "It's far more amusing to watch you spiral in a pit of despair."

I kick him in the shin and lean across the bar to grab a menu, not grabbing him one. Before surveying the drink options, I shrug off my coat and drape it across my arm. I see through my peripheral vision, Dan's eyes have briefly looked at my now bare arms but they're gone without an instant. I look down self-consciously and wonder if that was an appreciative glance he just gave me or not. Not that I care.

I'm wearing the only dress Georgina and I could agree on. It's one I've had for almost a year now but never worn. It's an emerald green satin slip dress with straps thinner than the finest ribbon and it flounces delicately above my kneecaps. I was worried it was a little too revealing but Georgina still won out in convincing me to wear it. And I had to admit, it was better than that Pretty Woman dress she had tried to loan me.

The bartender makes his way over to us and Dan smoothly slides out his credit card, motioning for me to order. Once our drink orders are in, he guides us over to a booth in the corner and I slide in across from him letting my discarded coat rest beside me.

"So duped anyone else with your hidden identity lately?" I ask him, bringing my elbows up to the table and letting my chin rest on my palms.

"I didn't dupe you," Dan corrects. "You're really aren't going to let it go though, are you?"

I shake my head, wrinkling my nose playfully. "No and where did you come up with the name Lincoln Hall anyway? It sounds like the name of some octogenarian professor."

"Says the girl who saves all my articles," Dan says with a sly grin.

"I don't save all your articles." I feel my cheeks heat. "It was like one article and I told you, I needed it for research purposes."

Dan gives me an unconvinced look before finally answering my question. "Lincoln is from the title of my dad's band, Lincoln Hawk. Hall is the last name of my favorite writer, Jeremiah."

"Your dad is in a band?" I find this tidbit at least a little intriguing.

"Yeah, a one-hit wonder from the 90s. Have you ever heard that song 'Everytime'?" Dan asks.

"I don't think so." I ponder over this. "Maybe if I heard it… Sing it." I demand.

"Why so you can not only make fun of my pseudonym but also my singing?" Dan gives me a wry expression.

"Maybe," My eyes shine back at him with amusement as our drinks arrive. I take a sip and let out a satisfied sigh. "Okay, I'm sold on this place. It was worth the torment. Oh and you're supposed to be interviewing me. Why are you letting me ask you all the questions?"

"I like answering them." Dan's honest answer makes my stomach flip flop and I have to look away for a second. "But fine. So tell me about Serena and Nate?"

"Actually, I think I need to drink more first." I change my mind taking another sip.

"Okay," Dan chuckles. "So tell me about you instead. I want to hear more about how you ended up as Manhattan's most in-demand bridesmaid."

I should be humble and say that I hate talking about myself. Yet for some reason, the way he's looking at me makes me want to tell him everything.

So I do.

* * *

"So Mr. Hall, do you have everything you need?" I ask tipsily leaning across the table a little a while later.

"I have enough." He tucks away the notebook he had been scribbling in and reaches across and pushes my empty glass towards the end of the table. "I think you have had enough too."

"I suppose so," I sigh sleepily. "This wasn't so bad though. Who would have thought the cynic would make for such great company?"

Dan's lips turn upward at that. "You think I'm great company?" He holds out my coat for me to put on as I rise. But I stumble a little and he steadies me. "Woah, you are a lightweight. Didn't you only have three drinks?" He checks his watch. "Over the course of two hours?"

"Yessss," I slur as I stick one arm into the coat. "I guess macarons don't make for the best pre-drinking food though." I exaggerate the accent on the word macaron.

Dan laughs. "No wonder… Let's go get you dinner then."

"I've had enough seedy experiences for one night," I shake my head.

"It's not seedy, I promise." Dan straightens out the collar of my crooked coat and hands me my purse which was almost forgotten in the booth seat. "You like pierogis don't you?"

Dan orders for both of us after he sits me down at a dining table as soon as we walked in. He comes back with a receipt and two glasses of water. "Drink that,"

I do as instructed and sip my water as he gets us silverware and napkins. I was instantly skeptical the moment I saw this place was counter service only but I do have to admit, the aroma in here is mouthwatering.

"So do you usually only subsist off French pastries?" Dan looks at me with raised eyebrows.

"Ever since Serena got back, I haven't had much of an appetite." I start to say. "Although, she hasn't been so bad this week."

"Bridezilla has been neutralized?" Dan jokes.

"Not quite, but at least toned down. She was actually sort of sweet the other day." I shrug. "We have a complicated relationship."

"So you've said…" Dan nods.

"What about you?" I ask, pushing my straw around in my cup. "Who torments you on a daily basis?"

"My sister," Dan says without thinking. "I love her but she worries me constantly."

I smile at the idea of him having a sister. "What's her name? How old is she?"

"Jenny," Dan says softly. "She's 27 but I still feel like she's a kid. She's been trying to make it in the fashion industry for a while now. Before that, it was modeling and ugh," Dan scrubs a hand over his face. "That was a bad phase because she was surrounded by people who didn't have her best interests at heart."

"And now?"

"Now, she's doing better I think. She cut those people out and got back to designing. I think she'll be okay." Dan nods to himself and I find myself warmed by his obvious concern for his sister.

Our number is called and Dan rises to fetch our pierogis. I had planned to wait and watch as he ate one, making sure they are truly edible and not some lethal concoction. But the savory aroma that wafts over on the tray makes me grab one as soon as Dan has set it down.

The first bite is heaven.

"Okay, you were right. This is amazing." I let out a satisfied sigh and place another on my plate.

"I told you," Dan looks pleased by my obvious enjoyment and adds a couple more to my plate. "I have a feeling you'll be back to a pastry-only diet after this so eat as many as you can now."

"Who knows," I cock a brow. "Maybe you've changed me. Perhaps I'll be all about seedy speakeasies and hole-in-the-wall restaurants from here on out."

"Well, if that's the case," A slow smile spreads across Dan's face. "You know exactly who to call for your next foray in Brooklyn."

And just like that, I like Brooklyn.

* * *

 **Hope you liked the continuation of this story! More to come soon :)**

 **I'm going to keep updating this between chapters of Pearl Island. I'm really excited about the direction this is headed and hope to post a new chapter within the next 2 weeks.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for all the reviews on the last chapter, it meant so much that you all stuck out the hiatus! For now, I'm sticking with Blair POV mostly because it's the only way the plot I have planned will work. But maybe for the epilogue, I'll do a Dan POV. Or my next story will be because you all are right, we need more of his perspective in my fics! Thank you so much for sharing your feedback, I always like hearing what you guys think!**

* * *

Georgina and I stand off to the side, observing the infiltrating crowd of upper-class New Yorkers, all here in honor of Nelly Yuki. Of course, her engagement party would be in the dullest of dull hotel ballrooms, lit by crystal chandeliers and filled with the sounds of violins. The only non-classy part of this whole affair happens to be standing next to me.

Georgina grabs another handful of potstickers off the tray being proffered by the tuxedo-clad servers and groans. "Why are we here again?" She says through bites.

"Not so you can make up for all those calories you missed while on that cleanse." I give her mouthful a disapproving glance. "We had to come. Nelly's an integral part of the company, it's only professional that we make our appearances at her engagement party."

"How aren't you sick of this shit?" Georgina washes down her food with a big swig of champagne and glares at another middle-aged woman who passed by with a reproachful glare leveled straight at her. "And why aren't you complaining?" She suddenly looks at me with suspicion. "Wait… Something's off. You were dreading this and we were both brainstorming excuses to skip it when we got the invite a couple of months ago. What's changed? Why aren't you near vomiting with me? B, we hate happy couples in love and all functions that revolve around them. Have you forgotten?"

I laugh, rolling my eyes. " _You_ hate happy couples in love, I just put up with all your whining about it."

"Uh no, I'm sure I could pull up some texts right now from you bitching about Nate and Serena." Georgina wipes her greasy hands on a nearby cocktail napkin, crumpling it and discarding it back on the table immediately after. She starts scrolling through her texts and I can tell she's really digging because she's frowning in concentration. "What the fuck?"

"What?" I ask idly, watching as Nelly adjusts her glasses for the twentieth time from across the room.

"Oh my god," She starts scrutinizing me. "There really is something wrong with you. Your last rant about Nate and Serena was over three weeks ago. Who are you and what the hell have you done with Blair Waldorf? In fact," She rounds on me. "You haven't even looked over at Nate once since he walked in. Where is that lovelorn expression I abhor so much?"

"Chill, G. What pills did you take tonight?" I shift my eyes at her bewildered expression. "I think it's time for a downer, clearly you've taken way too many uppers."

My eyes catch a figure moving towards us and I see it's Nate, sans Serena as she was not invited on the strict guest list that only Nelly Yuki would be so uptight about. "Hi, Blair." His eyes shine brightly, "You look beautiful. By the way," He leans in to whisper. "What did I get Nelly?"

"Thanks," I say with a pleased smile and lower my voice too. "And you got her the bottle of Moet and engraved crystal champagne glasses. Don't worry, I had Dorota do a really shitty job of wrapping it."

"Is that possible?" Nate gives me a wry look. "She's like Martha Stewart levels of wrapping skills."

"I think she just had Vanya wrap it," I shrug with a smile.

"Hello, Nate," Georgina pipes up sardonically from beside us.

"Oh Georgina," Nate flashes his white teeth at her. "I didn't see you there. How are you this evening?"

"The usual… Just counting down the minutes until it's socially acceptable to leave." Her tone is laced with saccharine notes that contradict her cynical words.

Nate chuckles, amused by her joke and pats us both on the shoulders. "Well, I better go wish the bride-to-be congratulations. Thank you again, Blair."

Once he's gone, Georgina suddenly snatches my phone from where it had been resting in my hand. "What are you doing?" I swipe for it.

"Hah!" She holds it up triumphantly. "I knew it! You aren't fawning over Nate anymore because you're too busy flirting with Dan Humphrey! You _not_ passing out when he said you looked beautiful was a dead giveaway."

I feel my cheeks heat as I pull the phone from her grasp with all the ferocity of a lion who's just had her cub taken from her. "That is an invasion of my privacy! I could report you to HR."

Georgina cracks up at that. "Out of all the things you'd report me to HR for it'd be that? Besides, we aren't at work right now so I don't think you can. Look, you can't even deny it."

"Dan is just a colleague," I repeat for the millionth time. "You know I'm helping him with his article."

"Helping him in more ways than just that I'd say." Georgina raises an eyebrow. Then she looks upward, as though trying to recall."' _If I were to be in say, Brooklyn, on a Saturday night what should I do?_ '" She quotes from memory, clearly.

I feel my cheeks burn even hotter. "That was just a friendly text. They're all just texts between friends."

"Funny," Georgina cocks her head at me. "I don't recall you ever sending me a winky face."

"It wasn't li- It was ironic, okay?" I huff in annoyance, out of excuses.

Georgina smirks. "On one hand I'm relieved I don't have to keep a bottle of Pepto-Bismol at my desk anymore to quell the nausea induced by your unrequited love speeches about Nate. But on the otherhand, I now get to hear all your delusions about _not_ liking Dan Humphrey. Denial doesn't suit you, Blair."

"Oh, look," I stick my empty champagne flute down on the nearest surface, not even caring if it landed on a table or on the ground. "Nelly's waving me over, I better go say hello."

"Ignorance is not bliss, Blair!" Georgina calls after me and I very blissfully ignore her.

It's 11 PM that same night and I find myself hyper-aware of everything that's transpired between Dan and I since the night I met him. I'm currently laying in bed, scrolling through our texts trying to read the subtext. Georgina has successfully planted a seed of doubt in my head that we are not just colleagues nor friends, and that something more might be at play here.

Since the night when he took me to the speakeasy, we've gone to a foreign film showing, to another cake tasting with Nate and Serena, and to Crate and Barrel to register them for a bunch of tableware they don't actually need.

But that was all related to his article, right?

Okay, maybe not the movie, I must admit. But he didn't do any of the classic date moves like put his arm around me or turn to me halfway through to makeout. Although the former move might have expired around the time he graduated from high school. But still…

There's nothing more, is there?

I shut my phone off and slide my eyemask over my face, blocking out all the swirling thoughts of the status quo of my dynamic with Dan.

It can wait.

* * *

"So," Serena swirls her mimosa. "How was the party I wasn't invited to?"

"Dull," I reply automatically. "Don't worry, you did not miss out."

"Nate said that too but I think you two are just trying not to make me feel bad." She looks wary. "You did get home late."

"I had to get Georgina a cab home and make sure she got into her apartment okay. You know her, open bar and she's headed straight for Lohan territory." I spoon some fruit onto my plate.

"Well, what about tonight? Any fun plans? If not, you and Georgina should come with Nate and I to this new sushi place in the Flatiron."

"I think we'll pass on fourth wheeling." I laugh. "But, I have plans anyways tonight." I try to sound nonchalant.

"Oh really, mysterious plans again..." Her eyes widen. "With who?"

"Dan," I stare down at my plate. "We're going to Veselka, he's never been. I'll spend the whole time talking about you and Nate and your fairytale romance, don't worry."

Serena looks at me quizzically and my stomach churns. I know that look, it's the same one Georgina had. "Didn't you just have a meeting with him about the article? On Wednesday? Blair, Nate and I have only known each other for less than two months, there can't be that much to tell. Unless you're seeing him for other reasons?" She arches a blonde brow.

"I thought you'd be thrilled," I say a little passive-aggressively. "You were the one wanted me helping him with it."

"B, I am. But you're my best friend. You should be able to tell me anything. Like if maybe you like Dan?" Serena eyes me.

"No, I don't." I rise suddenly and push my plate away. "I'm not hungry."

Serena sighs, looking confused. "Okay, I'm sorry I pushed it. Let's talk about something else. You still haven't told me how Harold and Roman are," She tugs me back down the table and I relent. "Tell me all about their glamorous chateau life."

So I do.

Later, that night just as I'm headed for my closet to change for dinner with Dan I spot something on the bed. It's a burgundy A.L.C. dress with a note on it.

 _For your non-date date_

 _Xoxo S_

I look at it and am about to toss it aside when I decide to try it on, just out of curiosity. The warm tone complements my olive skin and the silhouette is so perfect, that I can't help but wear it. I pull out my phone to text:

 _Thank you xxx_

* * *

Dan is waiting patiently just outside the restaurant as I walk up to Veselka at 5 PM. His formerly expressionless face breaks into a smile at the sight of me and I feel an electrical charge to my heart.

"Hey," He holds open the door for me, guiding us in. "Now, Waldorf, I feel it's only fair to warn you that I am picky about my pierogies and you're unlikely to convert me."

"Oh," I scoff. "You'll be eating your words momentarily. Trust me."

We walk up to the counter and I'm greeted by familiar faces as we order. I take over and lead Dan over to my favorite table smack down in the center of the restaurant.

"I've been eager to hear," Dan says once we're seated. "Did you get roped into being a bridesmaid when you went to that engagement party the other night?"

"No," I shake my head. "Nelly Yuki totally secretly hates me. But someone else did get roped into being a bridesmaid," I continue when Dan raises his eyebrows. "Georgina. Serena asked her because she doesn't 'have that many girlfriends.'"

"Really?" Dan winces. "Isn't Georgina being a bridesmaid a recipe for disaster? I thought you said she puked on the groom's shoes at the last wedding she was in."

"Oh, it's definitely going to end catastrophically. She already said she was going to bleach her bridesmaid dress so it's white."

"I'm sure Serena will like that," Dan replies sarcastically.

"I think your article is going to be better suited for Page Six than the Weddings column," I laugh.

At my joke, Dan's face creases momentarily and I'm confused by his reaction. "Right, the article…" His gaze shifts off but by the time he looks back to me, the momentary sadness I saw is gone. I must have imagined it, I decide by the time our food arrives.

By his second pierogi, Dan concedes. "Okay, you've officially converted me. These are, indeed, the best pierogies in all of New York."

"I told you!" I beam, satisfied at being right. "You might as well just move out of Brooklyn, Humphrey."

"Okay," Dan holds up a hand. "Now that's being a bit impulsive. You still can't deny we have the best coffee."

"The hipsters flooding the cafes negate the coffee quality for me so it's a wash." I say.

"Okay well, what about the flea markets? You know admitted you can't score antiques anywhere else with as high of value." Dan counters.

"True," I tilt my head. "But what about the museums in the city? You can't beat Manhattan for art."

"But the galleries in Brooklyn house more local artists showing more unique talents."

"Ugh, fine, Dan." I reach for another pierogi. "We'll agree to disagree."

"Or we can just agree to continue this debate with one another showing the other just how much better their preferred city is." Dan suggests. "I do have an independent theater in mind I've been meaning to show you."

"Deal," I hold out my hand. "Just wait until I take you to the gelato shop I found the other day in Little Italy."

"You're on Waldorf."

"Hope you like losing, Humphrey." I reply in unison. Our eyes meet and they're both sparking with something a lot like enchantment.

"Tomorrow then?" Dan asks. "We can do yours."

I shake my head, "We'll do yours, we just did mine. Besides, I'll let you enjoy a brief moment of triumph before I win."

"Tell me again how you're so beloved that you've been in over 20 weddings?" Dan asks playfully. "Because I cannot fathom how all 20 of those brides have endured a friendship with you."

"I'm charming, Humphrey, don't even try to deny it." I stick my hand up to hail a cab. "See you tomorrow. Better practice your graceful loser face in the mirror tonight."

"It'll be you doing the losing," Dan counters and tips his head to mine. "Goodnight, Blair."

* * *

The theater is dimly lit and has old-fashioned plush red seats. We take our seats beside each other and wait for the screen to click on.

It's the second time I've been to the movies with Dan. But this time, I'm uneasy. Thanks to Georgina and Serena's prodding, I feel self-conscious here with Dan. I keep finding myself looking out of the corner of my eye at him. As though magically a thought bubble will appear above his head indicating whether this is a platonic or romantic affair. None appears and I force myself to lean back in my chair.

I feel Dan lean in and a flicker of excitement at his nearness take hold. His hushed tone is nearly pressed up against my ear. "It seems it's just us. I can't help but be disappointed. I was hoping to have an audience when you admitted defeat."

I prickle all over and scooch just a little away. "That's because there won't be any loss on my part for anyone to observe. Now, quiet. The previews are starting."

I don't even like the previews but it forces him to settle back into his own chair, far enough away that I can breathe again.

Fucking Georgina. _And Serena._

I was a functioning adult a day ago, now I can't even have a normal social interaction thanks to them.

I shut my eyes momentarily and when I open them again, my focus is laser sharp on the movie and not on the person beside me.

It's two and a half hours later and Dan and I are having a lively dispute.

"I am not taking the subway. I refuse." I cross my arms over my chest, rooting my feet into the ground. "There are mole men."

Dan laughs, "I promise, the _mole men_ won't harm you." He teases.

"Why wouldn't we just take a cab?" I counter, releasing my arms.

"Because we'll be sitting in traffic all the way to Manhattan." Dan threads a hand over my arm, gently and pulls me toward the subway entrance.

I huff and follow while shaking away his grip which has somehow caused a million goosebumps to appear across my arms. "Fine, but know that you're basically forfeiting by forcing me on here."

Dan shrugs as he swipes his subway card through the machine. "Getting you on a subway is enough victory for me. I seriously can't believe you've lived in Manhattan your whole life and never been on it once."

"Mole men, Humphrey." I repeat, reluctantly following him onto the platform.

* * *

Shockingly, I survive the subway ride. Even though it questionably paused for a whole ten minutes in the middle of the journey toward Little Italy. I nearly went into a state of panic until Dan finally succeeded in reassuring me that it was completely normal.

I stick my spoon into my lemon lavender gelato, relishing the warmth from the low setting sun on my face. The dark subway tunnels really don't suit my complexion.

Dan pulls out a bistro chair for me to sit on and slides into the seat across from me. I smirk, "Ready to admit defeat yet?" I look pointedly at his almost half empty cup of hazelnut gelato.

"You did endure the subway just for me, so yes." Dan says with no trace of sarcasm.

My stomach somersaults at his word choice but I brush the feeling aside. "Never again."

"But the theater?" Dan asks with a hopeful expression.

"Yes, that I will return to." I smile brightly.

Our gelato is empty by the time the sun has fully set and we stand a little hesitantly on the sidewalk once the ice cream cups have been discarded. "Now what?" I ask.

"I'll walk you home." Dan replies. "I think you've endured enough interaction with 'middle-class professionals' for one day."

As we walk, the sky falling to dusk behind us, I find myself looking at him sideways, uncertain. "So, we haven't really talked about the article lately," I say a little apprehensively. "I mean, is that still the reason why we are spending time together?"

I feel a tightness in my chest form as I wait for his reply. In my nervousness, I return my gaze to the sidewalk.

"I don't think it is anymore." There's a lull in his reply. "That's okay, right?" His brown eyes turn inquisitive.

I turn to face him as we both pause in the middle of the sidewalk. His eyes are still fixed on mine. I should nod. All he's asking for is a yes or a no. A simple answer.

But instead, I lean in closing the distance between us and answering his question with something I don't think he was expecting. Something I wasn't even expecting to do.

 _A kiss._

I should have done it a long time ago.

* * *

 **TBC...**

 **Hope you all liked that last scene :) I'm hoping to update again by next Monday! Also, the next chapter will have more Serena and Nate scenes in it.**

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **PS Made an aesthetic for this story that you can see on Tumblr (thedairarchives) or on AO3 (same username as here.)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Picking up where the last chapter left off :)**

* * *

The whole walk home, I'm in a daze. Dan Humphrey's hand is laced through mine and I can still feel the ghost of his kiss across my lips. When we arrive at my door, he kisses me again and tells me he'll see me tomorrow.

 _Tomorrow._

I already wish it was morning.

I lean against the door once I'm inside, trying to catch my mind up to my heart. As my eyes flutter shut, I hear Serena's voice. "You wore the dress! I bet he loved it,"

My eyes flicker back open in time to see her toss the magazine she was reading aside and whirl around on the couch to face me. She misreads the hesitation on my face and amends her statement. "In a very platonic way, of course. So how was it?"

I come sit down on the couch beside her and clutch a pillow to my chest. "I think you were right." I feel a coy smile come to my lips. "I think, perhaps we're spending time together for more than just the article…"

"B!" Serena's blue eyes light up again and she nudges me. "Tell me everything!"

"We kissed," I say without preamble, looking away shyly. " _I_ kissed him."

"You did?" Serena scoots closer and squeezes my arm. "Yay! And?"

"He kissed me back," I say as though it's a question. "It was… it was really something."

"Oh my god," Serena puts her arm around me. "I knew he liked you! It was so obvious from that day at Magnolia. I just knew it! Now what?"

"We're going to see the Degas exhibit at the MET tomorrow." I pretend to pick a piece of lint off the dress I borrowed, feeling a little self-conscious from all of her praise and excitement.

"Aw, B. This is just so perfect," Serena tips her head onto my shoulder. "Think of the story for the wedding. You were the-"

I cut in, not wanting her to finish that train of thought. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, okay, S? It's just a date. Besides, Dan hates marriage." I wrinkle my nose. "I probably shouldn't have told you that since he's covering your wedding but we both know how good he is at his job so oh well."

"Well," Serena smirks. "I'm sure you can change his mind about that."

For some reason, I find myself hoping she's right.

"So," I change the subject. "How about you? How's that pre-wedding bliss going?"

I see Serena's face darken but she shakes her head. "I don't want to ruin the mood and taint your excitement about Dan."

"What is it?" I frown, demanding an explanation.

"Well," Serena flips a pillow over in her lap, playing for time. "There's a bit of a problem, with the catering."

"Oh," I wave this off. "That's all? I thought you were going to say you're calling off the wedding or something."

"I…" She finally meets my eye. "I may have told Nate I was a vegetarian and now he's trying to find plant-based caterers. Then, he said that he realized that he should research where Magnolia Bakery sources their ingredients to see if it's ethical." She pauses. "My lie is sort of escalating."

I laugh, "Why would you tell him that?"

"As you know, he's a vegetarian for environmental reasons so I told him I was too." She covers her face with the pillow. "I might have also said that I volunteer every summer at an eco-farm in Columbia. Now he's saying we should delay our honeymoon so we can do that together. It's spiraling…"

"Oh god, S." I sigh, at a loss. "Why did you tell him you were some eco-enthusiast when you're not?"

"You said he was into that stuff! It was before we got engaged and I thought we were just dating and that eventually that would fade away and he'd get to know the real me but by then it wouldn't matter. Or that maybe I would really be into that stuff if I tried! But now we're getting married and I realized my fiance doesn't even really know me. And what if he gets to know the real me and decides he doesn't want to marry me anymore?"

"Serena, Serena," I exhale, trying to think of what to do. "Of course he still will. But I think you can't just bombard him with all that at once. Why don't you try going vegetarian? For real, then if you hate it, you tell him. If you decide it works for you, then maybe you can explain your white lie. As for the other stuff, I mean I sincerely doubt you want to be knee-deep in soil on your honeymoon so I think you have to fess up."

"Ugh," She groans, "What a mess I made."

I squeeze her hand. "It'll work out, S."

* * *

The sky is filled with clouds yet even the hazy day can't dampen my mood. Rain could start pouring down right now and I don't think I'd even bat an eye at the damage inflicted upon my suede Manolos.

Because of this:

My hand in Dan's, our arms brushing, our steps in sync, an intoxicating energy between us. One that only the early days of a new relationship could incite.

"Normally," Dan says as we descend the steps of the MET. "Frilly dresses and tutus are usually not my idea of art. But I think you have me convinced."

I lean into his shoulder a little more, so much so that my head tips onto his shoulder, "Really?" I look up at him hopefully.

"Yes," He smiles at me. "I think right now, you could convince me to go to a whole fashion exhibit and I wouldn't even protest once."

"In that case," I pretend to tug him in the direction of the Fashion Institute of Technology. As he chuckles, I amend. "Kidding, I'm too hungry for that."

"Yes, paninis await us."

"And Italian sodas." I add. "I think I'll get grapefruit,"

"Grapefruit?" He feigns horror. "That's a crime. Everyone knows blood orange is the best flavor."

"Fine," I smile, coyly. "Maybe _you'll_ convince _me_."

Fifteen minutes later, as I sip my blood orange soda (he did convince me afterall) I fill Dan in on the latest with the wedding. "So, there's trouble in paradise… Nate apparently thinks Serena is a vegetable-loving hippie who lives on a commune." I quickly add. "This is off-the-record, by the way."

"Of course it is," Dan says in a way that implies that it being on-the-record hadn't even crossed his mine. "So why does he think that? I don't really know her, but I'm pretty sure that Prada bag she carries around wasn't made ethically."

"I guess she sort of implied she cares about the environment and it just kept tumbling into a bigger lie." I shake my head. "I don't know what she'll do. I told her to come clean, little by little. But definitely before the wedding,"

Dan nods, "That was good advice. I hope he understands. I want it to work out for the two of them."

"Me too," I say and realize I really mean it.

Maybe Georgina was right and my feelings for Dan finally erased my irrational infatuation with Nate. For the first time, I can say I'm genuinely rooting for him and Serena, and mean it. I smile and stretch my arm across the table so my hand can brush Dan's. Then I smirk, "Are you sure you aren't just saying that so you don't have to scrap your article?"

His expression darkens, this time I know I didn't imagine it. "Of course, not." He looks me steadily in the eye. "I care about them. I care about _you_."

The intensity of his words unleashes the fluttering of a million butterflies within me and I have to blink away the feeling before I can speak properly. "I care about you, too."

His fingers brush over the top of my hand and I forget all about my uneaten panini and half-drank Italian soda.

And all about that forlorn expression at the mention of his article.

* * *

It's the following day and the words on my computer screen are not forming coherent sentences. Instead, the blend together into one blurry blob. Because my mind is far from here, all the way across the Brooklyn Bridge, in fact.

"Oh no," A voice breaks my reverie. "I know that look."

I look up to see Georgina eying me warily. She continues, "The lovestruck look is back."

I cover my face with my hands. "No, it's not." When I remove my hands, I'm wearing a mask of indifference.

"Too late," Georgina sits on my desk. "I'm sure I already know who's responsible for that look but tell me anyways,"

So I do.

By the end of the story of my first date with Dan, although I'm not sure it would technically be the first date and more likely was a third or fourth, Georgina surprisingly doesn't look like she wants to regurgitate that almond milk latte she just drank.

"I'm happy for you," She says in a firm tone. "You deserve this, especially after all your bridesmaid-ing. Speaking of which," Her eyes flick towards Nate's office. "What was up with him this morning? Did the honeymoon phase end prematurely?"

I shake my head, "Serena finally told him." I say and know she understands. I had been texting with her about Serena's cascading lies to which Georgina replied with a link to a hemp-based burlap dress with the caption " _Perfect present for the bridal shower?_ "

Georgina winces. "About time, but looks like he didn't take the news too well."

"He didn't," I frown. "He told Serena he needs to think about everything. I hope that's not bad news."

"But he's like so obnoxiously in love with her. You don't think he'll demand back the ring or anything do you?"

"I hope not," I shrug. "But knowing Nate, he'll forgive her in time. He's not really one to hold grudges. And in the meantime, Serena has been binge-watching all these documentaries about the environment."

"Oh my god," Georgina's mouth falls open. "So she might end up actually becoming a commune-dwelling hippie?"

"I guess," I smile. "I think it would be kind of cute, actually. They could have bamboo-onesie-wearing babies named Basil and Bluebell."

"Oh god," Georgina mimes shoving a finger down her throat. "What has dating Dan Humphrey done to you? Do you even hear yourself? You're becoming an optimist and we are firm cynics, remember?"

"I don't think cynicism was ever really my color," I tell her. "But don't worry, we'll turn you into an optimist in time. Maybe Dan has a friend for you, I'll ask him at dinner tonight."

Georgina scoffs and slides off my desk. "No, thank you."

* * *

I come home armed with Serendipity to-go because frozen hot chocolate cures everything. Serena instantly picks up a spoon and starts digging in. "On the bright side of a postponed wedding, I don't have to watch what I eat. So now I can eat this with zero guilt."

"S," I pat her and take a bite of my own dessert. "Nate will come around."

"Well, until he does, I'll be eating my feelings." She licks her spoon clean. "Thank you by the way. You always know how to cheer me up."

I smile, "That's what best friends are for. So are you converted into a tree hugger yet?"

"Not quite," She tilts her head. "But I do think I am going to start using a glass water bottle. Did you know that the amount of oil used to produce plastic water bottles could fuel 17 million cars for a year?"

"I can honestly say, I did not." I nudge her. "But I thought Brown was all hemp-loving hippies, why didn't they teach you this stuff there?"

"I don't know," She giggles. "I guess I was too busy learning about what was underneath the clothing of all those hippies rather than what was used to make it. But it's never too late to learn,"

"True," I smile, too happy to remind her that if she really wants to go full eco, she'll have to give up her Barneys habit. "Maybe you'll have that eco-wedding Nate dreamed of afterall,"

She sighs and leans her head back against the couch. "I hope so. I'd even return that 8,000 dollar wedding dress just for Nate."

* * *

By the end of the week, what once was my living room is filled with overflowing cardboard boxes.

"S?" I call as I arrive home on Friday night to what looks like a storage facility. "Going somewhere? And are you taking my stuff with you?" I ask as I pluck an Elizabeth and James dress that definitely belonged to me out of one of the boxes.

Serena emerges from the guest room with a roll of packing tape in hand. "Oh hey," She smiles as though this is a perfectly normal scene. "Just doing a little spring cleaning,"

"It's not spring," I say dully, traipsing over another box in an attempt to reach the hallway.

"I know, but it's never too early to get a headstart." She bends over and seals up a box. "I found this amazing women's shelter and I'm donating most of my wardrobe to it."

"Does Nate know?" I ask as I eye her now empty closet. "And do you think they really need your old lingerie?" I say holding up an Agent Provocateur bodysuit.

"Hey, just because someone is less fortunate doesn't mean they don't deserve to feel sexy too." Serena chides, pulling it from my grasp and putting the lacy piece back in the box. "But no, Nate doesn't know. I think it makes it less of a good deed if I'm only doing it to win him back."

"Right but," I shake my head, deciding not to give her a lecture on the sanitariness of used lingerie. Clearly, this is something she needs to do. "Well good luck with all this," I motion around. "I'm just picking up some clothes."

"Sleeping at Dan's again?" She asks with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, especially considering that my apartment is apparently under renovations. Just let me know when you're done with your 'cleaning' and I'll come back." I stuff a few outfits in my Paravel weekender bag.

"I will!" She calls cheerfully. "And in between 'rendezvous' with Dan, maybe you two can become enlightened too! Start with An Inconvenient Truth!"

"Will do," I lie, not bothering to tell her watching such a documentary is hardly sexy. I say a silent prayer that when I come home, my clothes and belongings will still be here. While I'm all for her eco reinvention, I'm not quite sure I'm on the same path and I'd like to have a wardrobe to come home to. I decide, perhaps I'll casually drop a mention of Serena's sudden charitable spirit to Nate on Monday in the office.

Even if she says it's not to win Nate back over, I know her better than that. And I know that her heart is in the right place. Maybe this whole lie will actually be for the best and she'll have changed. She never had much direction before so perhaps being set on a new path isn't the worst thing for her.

Maybe, it's what she needed all along.

As my cab pulls up in front of Dan's building, I think to myself, _and maybe this is what I needed all along._

* * *

 **TBC...**

 **BTW, I'm finding myself all for an eco reinvention of Serena so I hope you guys are too! I'll update again soon, and expect some more developments between both relationships in this story. And hey, maybe even Georgina will get a love interest by the end of the story!**

 **Thank you for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

"You should have seen it," I tell Dan as he stirs the balsamic reduction over the stove. I've just arrived at his apartment to find him cooking me dinner and yet my mind is still swimming over the memory of my apartment. "I seriously thought my apartment had been hijacked by movers."

Dan laughs and turns around to press a kiss to my forehead. "Well, I am rather happy with this development. If it gives you more reason to stay here, then I'm all for it. In fact, maybe I'll send over a few documentaries about the impact of the shoe industry on the environment so Serena has a whole other wardrobe section to clear out. I hear shoes are every girl's weakness so she must have dozens to trade out. I estimate that the contents of her shoe collection would take up at least three-quarters of your apartment."

"You're evil," I say with a smile, leaning my head over his shoulder, watching the bubbles as the balsamic comes to a simmer.

"How could I be considered evil?" Dan teases, briefly letting his head lean against mine before returning to cooking. "When I'm doing such a favor for the ecological system?"

I should protest, remind him of my feelings about Brooklyn. But the delicious notion that he wants me here, for as long as possible, is enough to silence my remonstrations. I wrap my arms around his back, instead, letting myself imagine staying here forever.

I know it's too soon, it's only been two weeks. Maybe longer if you count all the date-like hangouts we had before we actually acknowledged our feelings for one another. I should stick to my cynical instincts, the ones that always protect me from heartbreak. But still, the image refuses to leave my mind.

 _I have a problem._

I pull away suddenly, hoping a bit of distance will qualm my overly romantic notions. I glance around the kitchen, "Anything I can help with?"

"No," Dan shakes his head. "I want you to relax. You've had a long day, what with Serena's called off wedding and now reinvention. You deserve a break,"

My jittery hands say otherwise. "Can I at least set the table?"

"Fine," Dan sighs with a smile as he removes the pot from the heat and transfers the reduction into a dressing bottle. He places the bottle in the fridge, allowing it to chill. "I suppose I can let you do that."

"How was your day?" I say as I return to the kitchen to grab plates after setting out napkins and silverware. "I don't think I asked."

"It was good," Dan says with a frown that contradicts his statement. He catches my questioning gaze and elaborates, "It was another day in the Weddings column. Let's just say that,"

"What, did some couple make your write their vows or something?" I joke to hide my disappointment at yet another hint to his hatred of matrimony. It's a bucket of ice to the warm domestic reveries that had been circulating through my brain just moments ago.

"Something like that," His vague reply comes as he begins drizzling our Caprese salads with the now chilled balsamic reduction.

"Why don't you look for another job? If you dislike your current one so much," I voice the question I've been wondering for a while now.

Dan sets out the platter with a set of tongs and then pours us each a glass of wine. When he looks back up at me, there's a wry expression on his face. "It's not all bad, you know. There are some perks… Like meeting cute brunettes with an Olympian skill for bouquet catches and fast wardrobe changes."

"So you pick up girls at weddings often?" I tease but the pang of jealousy still hits me. He does hate weddings yet has remained a wedding columnist for over 2 years, perhaps he's stuck it out for all the beautiful bridesmaids he gets to meet. I imagine him, coming to a different girl's rescue as she falls to the ground during a too-rowdy bouquet toss and feel a sharp stab of envy. I know my features have twisted, I can't hide my reaction to the train of thought.

Dan looks at me from across the table carefully. "Of course not. Wasn't that clear? I should have said _only_ perk." He focuses his gaze at me pointedly. "You. There's only you. Maybe that's the reason I stay… Because now I feel this weird guilt attachment to the job because it introduced me to you." He shrugs. "Who knows, someday perhaps I'll make a boyish attempt at writing a novel, or even, get promoted to the Weather section. But for now, it's Weddings."

"Weather," I laugh and roll my eyes to hide the creeping in of an emotion I can't quite yet name that was stirred by his reassurances. So I deflect, flipping the conversation topic back to _him_ , instead of _us_. "You're ridiculously blind to your own talent, _Lincoln Hall_." I use his pseudonym for emphasis.

He seems to weigh his reply, but when his eyes are on me again, they're a little bit softer and tremendously more determined. "And you're ridiculously blind to my feelings for you."

* * *

The weekend in Brooklyn passes by in a blur. We go to another indie theater he thinks I'll love (which I do), spend our mornings at the cafe down the street, and discuss the pros and cons of the borough. It's like he's always trying to convince me that Brooklyn is worth my while. He doesn't need to try though, he's enough of a gravitational pull keeping me firmly planted on Brooklyn soil. So much so that I feel a wave of sadness as I climb into a cab, Manhattan-bound on Sunday after breakfast.

I return home to an empty apartment and feel another pang of loneliness. I remind myself that I just saw Dan thirty minutes ago. No one likes a clingy girlfriend _if_ that's what I am. Then, I think of Serena and wonder what she's up to.

When I reach the guest room, I discover it looks a bit more like it's pre-Serena state. The closet is nearly emptied, so much so I feel a momentary flicker of panic that the apartment has been robbed of all designer clothing and all persons named Serena van der Woodsen. I look around warily, "S?" I call even though she's not in sight.

"I'm in your bathroom," I hear her distant reply echo through the hallway. "I hope you don't mind, I was just using your bathtub."

She steps out of the master bathroom with a towel wrapped around her and another one in her hands, blotting her damp blonde hair. "I got the most amazing essential oils and had to try them, I left them on the counter for you. It's a much better alternative to artificially scented bubble baths and soaking salts." She says with an informed air.

Ah, so eco-Serena lives on. I nod, "Thank you, I'll… consider them."

"Oh, B." She suddenly wraps her arms around me and the scent of lavender and bergamot floods my nostrils. At least new Serena smells good, I had feared otherwise. "You have no idea how good it is to see you."

I suddenly feel guilty, "I'm sorry for not being around much these past few days. Anything from Nate yet?"

She shakes her head sadly. "But it's okay. I'm glad you're spending so much time with Dan. You deserve to." She suddenly starts inspecting me with a tilt of her head. "Look how good it is for you, I don't think I've ever seen your complexion so glowy."

I bring a hand up to my cheek and touch it, as though I need to confirm it through touch even though my emotions prove her point. I feel a coy smile come to my lips, "I feel it."

"Come on," She tugs me toward the living room. "Go sit on the couch while I put on a robe and then you can tell me all about your weekend with Dan."

After I finish recounting my weekend to Serena, I turn the attention back to her. "How goes your eco transformation?"

"Great! Feel my robe," She offers her baby blue-sleeved arm. "It's bamboo."

"Soft," I comment, suppressing a smirk. "So what's next in your green overhaul?"

"I started looking at jobs at non-profits, actually."

"You did?" I can't fight back my tone of surprise. I didn't realize she was so serious about this new commitment to the Earth. For as long as I've known her, Serena has been flighty. With relationships, cities, and her sense of style. Even the marriage to Nate, I had figured was the latest in her phase. Housewife Serena. But now, eco Serena seems to be here to stay. "What about modeling?"

"27 isn't exactly the prime age for modeling." Serena looks a little wounded. "I kept booking less and less jobs and then my agent started suggesting I look into some 'youth-regenerating procedures.' I always knew it would run up someday, I just hadn't expected it to be before I hit 30. So I hopped the next plane back here, hoping I could stall my impending retirement from modeling a little longer…"

I nod, her impromptu long-stay in the city finally making sense to me. "A new career could be exciting. Besides, now you can finally put that Ivy League degree to use!" I try to sound encouraging.

"Exactly!" She perks up. "Look over my resume for me?" She asks hopefully.

"Of course," I reply automatically. "Maybe I'll look over the positions you'll be applying to while I'm out it. I just want to make sure you won't be pestering me at the grocery store to fight the war on plastic or something like that. Not that it's not a noble effort," I add on hastily.

"Oh, B." She gives me a sideways look. "I would never. I mean those scratchy cotton tees in putrid green would hardly go with my faux-suede Stella McCartney boots."

* * *

My hand is cramped as I pack up my Saint Laurent tote in the office boardroom. I've spent the entire day dutifully note-taking the meetings Nate and I have been subjected to going over the rollout of the latest ebook redesign. It's been strictly business between Nate and I the past week and I expect the pattern to continue.

But then, he brings up the unspoken subject between us. "How's Serena?"

"She's good," I reply chirpily. "I'm helping her with job applications tonight, in fact."

"New modeling contract?" Nate asks, tapping a pen against the boardroom table.

"No," I shake my head. "She's pursuing other opportunities actually. A non-profit." I keep it vague, not wanting to sound calculated.

At this, Nate's face lights up with interest. "Really?"

"You should ask her about it yourself," I slip my bag onto my shoulder. "I'm sure she'd love to tell you."

"Blair," Nate seemingly reads my vagueness as agitation. "I know it was harsh of me to postpone the wedding. It just was such a shock, to find out she hadn't been honest with me. I couldn't marry someone I didn't even really know."

"Nate, I completely understand your decision." I fix my brown eyes on him firmly. "But I don't understand you icing her out. She deserves a chance to let you get to know the real Serena, doesn't she? Unless you aren't interested in her anymore, in which case I think you tell her. So she doesn't waste her time waiting around for you."

I suddenly remember we're at work and fear I've overstepped. I quickly add, "Sorry if that sounds harsh. I wouldn't want this to affect our working relationship so perhaps it's best if we don't discuss this."

Nate nods, "I'm sorry, Blair. I shouldn't have brought it up. I just… miss her." He rakes a hand through his hair, looking a little torn. "But you're right and don't worry, I appreciate your honesty. It won't be a problem."

I bring my most business-like smile to my face and collect the rest of my things, stepping out of the glass door. But before I let it close I turn back. "If you miss her, you should tell her. I'm sure she'd be happy to hear from you."

Once the door is closed behind me, I finally notice Georgina who's been eavesdropping. "Now you're actually helping their relationship?" Her tone is incredulous. "I miss the old Blair that would cook up schemes to make people's lives worse not better."

"I didn't do that," I reply defensively. "Name one time,"

"Last year at the Christmas party when we paid the intern to ask out Penelope and say he'd 'always wanted to date an older woman.' She booked a botox appointment immediately after." Her eyebrows raise, "Should I name more? Because I have about a dozen examples."

"Fine," I relent, following her to the elevator. "Maybe there were a few times I might have _plotted_ a misery-inciting event for one of my enemies. But it was wrong."

Georgina rolls her eyes and pushes the button for the lobby. "If you tell me you're joining Serena on her eco-revolution I swear I'll book you into the nearest mental ward for a psych evaluation."

I wave off Georgina's fears and hail two cabs so we can each go our separate ways for the evening.

When I get home, Serena looks like she's overdosed on her "Happy Fix" essential oil blend. "B!" She steps forward excitedly. "Nate texted me saying he wants to get lunch together tomorrow. He said he misses me."

I quirk a brow, feigning surprise, "Did he?"

"Yeah," She smiles broadly. "Help me pick out an outfit? I haven't been this nervous since our first date."

 _A mere seven weeks ago_ , I think to myself with an inward smirk. "Of course. But then we have to work on your resume so you're ready for your interview on Thursday."

"Okay okay," She drags me by the hand to the closet.

"Hey," I say suddenly remembering. "I forgot to ask. Do you mind if Dan comes over tomorrow night?"

"It's your apartment, of course not." Serena says while retrieving a few pieces from the closet. "Oh! We can all watch Plastic Paradise together!" She watches my expression morph into one of apprehension and laughs. "Kidding, I'll be out of the apartment. I'll go get dinner with Poppy or something."

"Thanks, S." I turn my attention to the grey maxi dress in her hand. "Not that one, it's too casual. Try these," I pull a floral floaty skirt from the rack and pair it with a turquoise silk tank. Although upon closer inspection this doesn't appear to be real silk, more likely some recycled fiber instead, but it still works.

"That's perfect! And for your accessory, just bring that reusable water bottle. It'll impress Nate." I say a moment later as she does a little twirl in the outfit. "Now, time for a professional makeover."

* * *

I scrub the kitchen counter furiously on Tuesday night, even though the maid was here two days ago. Serena wrenches the cloth from my hand and lays a hand on my shoulder. "Relax, B. It's spotless in here, not that Dan would even care if it wasn't. Just go chill on the couch until he gets here."

I give her a cool look as if to say, _Chill?_

"Okay, then, have wine and reorganize your bookshelf or something. You're going to mess up your manicure if you do anymore scrubbing. Oh and you should really swap cleaning products by the way, the fumes alone are completely toxic." She places a glass of wine in front of me. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you nervous about a guy before."

"Sure I have been," I contradict. "James?"

She shakes her head, "No way, I think you were more worried about if his outfits matched yours rather than his feelings. Which were neutral, anyway. Besides, you already know Dan likes you. He's your boyfriend, what's there to stress about?"

"No he's not," I say, taking a sip of the wine. "I don't know what we are,"

"But he basically is,"

"Not the same thing, S." I look at the clock and she follows my gaze.

"I should go," She reaches for her purse on the hook by the door. "I don't want to third wheel you guys. I'll see you later. Have fun with-"

There's a knock on the door and she gives me an excitedly speculative glance. "Should I sneak down the fire escape?"

"No," I scoff at her absurd suggestion. "He knows you live here." I step around her and open the front door, feeling a release of butterflies in my solar plexus.

"Hey," Dan presses a smile against my lips. "You look beautiful."

I open the door fully and he steps in and finally notices Serena. I register what a rare thing that is, for someone to notice me before Serena. "Hi, Serena."

"Hey Dan!" She gives him a friendly hug and then waves to me. "See you later, B."

"Tell Poppy I say hi," I reply neutrally as she sets out the front door.

"I must admit," He starts to say. "I was rather hoping she'd stick around and educate us on the proper way to sort our recycling. I thought it would really set the mood."

"I can call her back," I smirk placing my hands on his shoulders and slowly guiding him backward toward the living room. "I'm sure she'd love to demo reading recycling codes for us. I really could use a refresher on which can plastics number four goes in."

Dan falls against the couch softly as I slide easily onto his lap. His lips capture mine and between kisses, he says, "I think I'll pass tonight. I need to save an excuse to come back over tomorrow night."

I keep my forehead pressed against his, letting the warmth of his skin flood into mine. "You don't need an excuse."

"No?" His fingers trace loops against my bare arms. "That's a relief. Because I already know which is which and I'd feel a little cruel tricking Serena into thinking she's educating me."

"Of course you do," I roll my eyes. "It's probably was a prerequisite before they let you move into the complex, wasn't it? Seems a very Brooklynite thing to know."

"That and owning a typewriter," He replies smoothly.

"Well," I lean back a little to survey him, keeping my arms wrapped him. "What shall we do now that we decided to procrastinate saving the world?"

He lets a hand come up to my hair and he softly guides me back toward him. "This,"

Our lips touch once more and the world fades away.

* * *

 **TBC...**

 **I hope you all liked this chapter! It seemed time for a lighthearted, angst-free chapter so hence the all-around happiness in this one. Next chapter will be more plot-focused though. I hope to update within the next week or so.**

 **Thank you so much for reading and your reviews are always greatly appreciated!**


	8. Chapter 8

I wake up to the warmth of another body pressed against mine. A sensation that I have become all too pleasantly used to. I sigh, nestling my head comfortably into the crook of Dan's neck. Happiness surges within me, just from this small comfort and I'm struck suddenly by a thought.

 _This_ is happiness. Perhaps the happiest I've ever been. And if this ends, whatever it is, so will the new light that's found permanent residence in my chest.

The distant sound of the front door opening and clicking shut steals my attention and I feel Dan tighten his grip on me as I try to sit up.

"No," He says, drawing me back into him. "Stay."

"Serena's home I think," I let myself sink back into the comfort of his chest. Just for a moment longer. "She didn't sleep here, I never heard her come in last night. I should go check on her."

"She probably stayed with her friend," Dan muses sleepily. "Either way, I don't think your immediate attention is required by her presence."

"But my presence is required at work. And isn't yours?" I turn my head so I can gaze up at him.

His face clouds momentarily, "They can do without me. Who even reads the Weddings section these days anyway? _How He Asked_ stole all our readers." He smirks suddenly and gives me a pointed look. "Although, I suppose I do still have one loyal reader…"

"It was like one article," I look back towards the window, turning my gaze away from him as my cheeks heat.

"That's not what Serena said," He teases. "She said there was a whole stack of articles you saved. In fact, I am feeling a little hazy on my past work and would love a walk down memory lane. Can you point me in the right direction?"

"There's not a stack," I roll over and draw the covers over my face. "Your so-called one loyal reader is also very close to kicking you out and ending her subscription to The New York Times."

"You wouldn't," He calls my bluff, moving closer so his arm is wrapped around me again. He slowly starts to draw the covers away from my face.

I gaze steadily at him, "I might."

"B," Our eyes both shift to the closed door where Serena's voice is drifting through. "Are you home?"

"See," I give him an _I told you so_ look. "She needs me. I can sense these things."

He reluctantly withdraws his arm so I can get up. But not before planting a soft kiss on my forehead. "I'll let you get up then. And I guess I'll drag myself off to another dull day of spinning stories about floral arrangements. But," He gives me a hopeful look. "Maybe you can come over tonight?"

"I think I can agree to that," I smile as I put on my silk Natori robe. "You can use the shower by the way. There's L'occitane shampoo and conditioner in there. Oh and I think I have a jar of Oscar Blandi pomade in the cupboard."

"Is that a hint?" He gets up and starts toward the master bathroom, giving me a wry look.

"Yes," I nod. "Now, go, fix that hair. You look like a muppet right now."

I step out of the bedroom, closing the door gently behind me. Serena is waiting for me at the end of the hallway with an apologetic expression. "I didn't realize Dan would still be here. Sorry,"

"It's okay," I reassure her as I go into the kitchen to make coffee. "So, how was your night? You didn't sleep here… Do I even want to know?"

Serena looks horrified at the insinuation. "Oh, no. I just slept at Poppy's. I didn't want to wake you guys up. We had a mellow night, just caught up with a few of the other models and grabbed drinks after dinner. But seeing them all, it just felt so hollow. It made me really miss Nate…"

I reach over and squeeze her arm gently. "I'm sorry,"

"Don't be," She brightens. "We've been texting all week and we're getting dinner tonight."

"Wait," I freeze, mug in mid-air. "You have? So lunch went well? I didn't even hear about it. I sort of thought I shouldn't ask."

She nods, smiling. "I think we've sorted reverted to dating. Which is weird since we're technically still engaged. But I think it's a good thing. I have a good feeling about it."

I think about this and nod confidently a moment later. "It's a little out of order, getting engaged first and then dating, but I think it's right. I'm happy for you."

"Me too," She does a bit of a twirl in her floaty paisley maxi as she retrieves a box of oatmeal from the pantry. "Hey, we should go on double dates."

"Double dates," I keep my tone light. "What a novel idea."

But somehow, the idea gives me a little thrill.

* * *

"Have you been too busy with your new BF to update me on the latest _goss_?" Georgina demands, already waiting for me in my office when I get in. She's currently perched on my desk inspecting her manicure while looking completely annoyed. "Nate's in a chipper mood that I can only assume was caused by Serena… Am I correct?"

"Yes," I say gently swatting her off my desk. "Now get your AllSaints leather-clad legs off my desk and maybe I'll fill you in."

She huffs in annoyance and slides into the chair across from me, flicking her stick-straight hair off her shoulders. "Dish,"

"They're dating, essentially-"

"Have they forgotten they're engaged?" Georgina is incredulous. "Because the last time I checked that ring was so massive, it can't exactly be missed."

"I know," I shake my head. "But it's what they need I think. I wouldn't be surprised if we have to pull out those bridesmaids' dresses from our closets again."

"Oh my god," Georgina leans forward in the chair. "I'm back on bridesmaid duty?"

"Possibly," I click on my computer and flip open my planner. "I'll be sure to tell Serena how excited you are at the prospect. Now, I believe you have a job to go do,"

"Ugh, no fun." Georgina huffs off and in the direction of her own office. "But I reserve your company for our Friday night girls night. No boys and no wedding talk unless it's the complaining type. So work on ditching that sunny disposition, B. Love ya,"

"Love you too," I call back with a lazy wave of the hand.

* * *

I skip my lunch break, favoring a green juice sipped while replying to emails and am able to get off work half an hour early. For once, I am out of the office before the sun has set and the golden light guides me to Dan's apartment.

When he opens the door to let me in, he pulls me into his arms and breathes me in. "I missed you today,"

I quirk a brow, leaning back slightly. "You just saw me this morning. Before I rather unceremoniously kicked you out of my apartment." I kiss him in between words.

"I know," He guides me in and gently takes my coat off my shoulders. "How was Serena by the way?"

"She was good. I guess things are back on track with her and Nate." I follow him into the kitchen and survey what he's cooking. It looks like a pasta of sorts and smells delicious. "This looks good, can I help?"

"No, I got it. Thanks." He smiles at me, "I'm happy for Serena."

"They want to go on double dates," I announce as he turns his attention back to the stove.

He looks at me, smirking. "Like at the bowling alley and the diner afterward drinking milkshakes? So old-fashioned,"

"I know," I look down at my hair, trying to find a split end. "It could be fun though."

He laughs and comes over, kissing the top of my head. "I was kidding. Of course, we should."

I let my eyes drip back upward at him, "Really?"

"Anything you want. We can even go to the drive-in." He teases.

"Hey, speaking of movies," My attention is diverted. "What are we going to do tonight now that we've seen every movie worth seeing in the tri-state area?"

"Well," He looks at me seriously. "There is this thing called Netflix..."

"You don't say," I lean back against the counter, sardonically.

"Yes," He nods. "Maybe you want to go investigate it and see if there's anything decent to watch while I finish cooking?"

"Sure," I head into the living room, realizing we haven't spent much time in here. The couch is a tufted relic, probably picked up at one of the local overpriced flea markets. I search it for the remote, coming up empty. I then frown at the bare coffee table, save for a couple of books on film. "Where's the remote?"

I spot a drawer in the ebony wood table. "Nevermind," I call as the drawer slides upon and I discover the slim remote sitting atop it. When I retrieve it, a stack of paper below it catches my eye. The red streaks and slashes across it don't do enough to hide the title.

 **The Perennial Bridesmaid**

 _Lincoln Hall_

Below the title, a name catches my eye, _Clair Carlyle_. And just a few lines below, _Sabrina van Skoneker_. _What the fuck?_

I pull out the document and flip through it. Ignoring the red slashes and annotations littering the sides. My eyes solely focusing on all the words that give me the sensation of deja vu. A slow panic travels through my body as I realize this cannot be coincidence. No names could just so happen to be that similar to mine and Serena's.

More lines that sting and cut me deep.

 _Always, always a bridesmaid._

My hands are shaking now as I try to read.

"Wait!" I hear Dan's hurried steps crossing the room. "That isn't- You shouldn't be reading that. It's not-"

"What it looks like?" I finish his sentence as I look up at him with my eyes burning, a tear threatening to fall. "Always, always a bridesmaid? Is that what you think of me?"

I can barely get the words out as my mind blurs in a frenzy of newsprint. Dan can't seem to think of what to say, as he hesitant steps closer. I step back, clutching the papers to my chest. "Don't."

How did this all crumble so fast? We were supposed to eat pasta, watch some French film, fall asleep together. And now, it's all ending.

"Blair," His face is twisting in agony. "Please, let me explain it to you. It was before-"

"You used me," I cut in, not caring to hear his explanation. From somewhere far off, I think I smell burning. _Whatever, let the fire take us both down._ "All along. This was all for your article,"

"No," Dan interjects quickly. "I didn't use you."

I compose myself, setting my posture straighter as I wipe a tear from my cheek, angrily. "It certainly looks that way to me. I'll have you know that if this ever gets published, I will fucking sue you and The New York Times for libel. My stepdad is a lawyer and he always wins every case. So I'd destroy that if I were you. "

I collect my bags, throwing the stack of papers back on the table so heatedly that they all scatter throughout across the living room. Dan rushes to me, trying to stop me. "Blair, please don't leave." I think there are tears in his eyes and he looks so desperate that for one tiny second I think of staying. Of hearing him out.

Maybe it doesn't have to be over.

But then the words replay in my head, in Arial 10 point font.

 _Always, always a bridesmaid._

I march out the door and let the door slam shut behind me.

Only once I'm in the cab, do I let myself cry properly.

 _It was all a lie._

* * *

I rush into the apartment, not even certain if I bother to shut the front door behind me. I bolt for my bedroom, locking it behind me and throwing myself on the bed, sobbing now.

 _I've been such a fool._

"Blair," Serena's panicky voice is just audible through my shuttering heaves. "Blair, what happened?"

I think I hear whispers, two voices perhaps.

 _Fantastic_ , I have an audience for what will most likely prove to be the biggest meltdown in all of NYC.

"Is she okay?" It's Nate's voice, I know that now. I put a pillow over my head to block out the sounds. It doesn't work.

"I don't know." I hear the door try to open. "B, can you let me in? I'm worried,"

After the handle jiggles for the eleventh time, I realize she's unlikely to give up so I haul myself up. I catch my face in the mirror as I cross the room to unlock the door and see my cheeks are littered with black streaks of mascara. I release the lock and then crawl back into bed, letting my face be buried into all of the pillows.

"B, what happened?" I feel Serena's hand come to my back while I shake my hand in response. "You were at Dan's weren't you?"

I manage to sit up just enough to nod. "I won't be going back," I say vaguely, sniffling.

"Why not?" Serena's hand pushes my hair out of my face. At my hesitation, she adds, "It's me, B. We're sisters. You can tell me anything."

"I know," I manage, now letting myself sit beside her, resting my head in my knees. "It's just. I feel like such a fucking idiot,"

"Why?" Serena asks gently. "I can't believe that. You're the smartest person I know and I think that Yale degree proves you're far from an idiot."

"Dan was just using me. It was all just for his article." A fresh wave of pain hits me as I say the words aloud. "Always, always a bridesmaid. That's what he wrote about me,"

Serena reels back at this information, her eyes widening. "Oh, B." She leans her head against my heaving chest as I cry more.

I don't know how long we stay like that. But long enough that I begin to drift into sleep, my tear-streaked face certainly staining my pillow.

Through the heavy fog of drowsiness, I hear Serena leave the room, tiptoeing across the room.

"Will she be okay?" I think I'm dreaming now as I hear Nate's voice.

"I don't know. It's so awful Natie, Dan wrote some article about her."

"The guy that was supposed to write about our wedding?" There's a pause. "I'll make sure it never goes to press. Whatever it takes."

"I think she really liked him." Serena's sad sigh invades my dreams. "Maybe even loved him,"

The voices fade away and I'm left with haunting dreams of what could have been.

* * *

The first thing I do when I wake up is head for the bathroom to wash away yesterday's heartbreak. If I've learned one thing from all the movies I've watched in my lifetime, it's that sorrow is far more beautiful when sported with a face ready for the silver screen.

I put on about a pound of various eye creams, hoping that it'll remove the circles beneath my empty eyes. The leftover traces of heartbreak are covered by an intense regime of concealer and foundation application. By the time, I emerge from the bedroom, even Serena looks impressed.

"B?" She surveys me. "I made coffee. Why do you have makeup on? And Manolos? Where are you going? Nate gave you the day off."

"I won't be needing it." I take a sip of the coffee, letting the heat sear my tongue. "I'm going to work."

"You are?" Serena looks baffled despite the fact that it's a Thursday and 90 percent of NYC is heading off to work at this very moment. I remember then that she has her job interview today.

"Of course," I reply tersely. "I've done enough wallowing. Any more would be pathetic. Isn't your job interview today?"

"Blair," Serena sighs. At my ignorance of her concerned tone, she answers my question. "Yes it is, but you can text me if you need me. I'll call you right after. I really wish I could be there for you today-"

"S," I cut her off. "I'm fine. Dan wasn't even my boyfriend. He just was some asshole journalist." The words sting but I press on. "I'm not going to let him cause a setback. Besides I have a libel suit to go file."

Serena stops me as I try to reach the front door. "Dan called you, like twenty times last night. You left your phone in your bag on the counter," She holds it out. "And he texted you a bunch. I think you should read-"

I take the phone and swipe at my entire text chain with him then press delete. Next, I go into Missed Calls and press clear. "Deleted."

 _It's like it never happened._

"Blair!" Serena admonishes. "Don't you want to know what he had to say?"

"And hear some half-ass excused why he just wasted three months of my time? I don't need his lies. It was all so he could buy his way out of the Weddings column. I was just a casualty. I should let him publish the article, actually. That would fucking show him how little I care." I turn away so she can't see forming tears which contradict my bitter tone. I shrug my trench coat on. "Anyways, I'm going to be late for work. I'll see you tonight, S."

I step out the door, willing myself to forget all about Dan Humphrey.

* * *

 **TBC...**

 **As a few of you guessed, the last chapter, unfortunately, was the calm before the storm. From here, we are going into Part II which is from Dan's point of view. I thought that would allow more clarification and insight into his seeming betrayal of Blair. So don't give up on him just yet!**

 **Thank you all so much for reading! I truly appreciate each and every one of your reviews too :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Part II:** **The Journalist**

The mistake was evident as soon as I punched the first key of the typewriter. The foreboding sense had been strong yet I had shaken it off, reminding myself of the certain wrath I would face if I chose not to write the article. I willed myself to believe that Blair Waldorf was nothing more than a story. Forget the first meeting, the night I watched enraptured as she nearly entered the wedding wearing two different shoes. The self-assured way she had floated into the reception hall. The graceful manner in which she collapsed to the floor after being taken out by a bridesmaid assailant.

Drinks one time didn't make her anything more.

Yet, she had lingered in my mind ever since that first night. And when I entered the bakery to meet the couple I was arranged to cover the wedding for and saw her instead, it felt like fate.

 _Why had I ever even pitched that godforsaken story?_

If I could go back to the moment when Epperly kept pressing me for a fresh, fun story I would not say it again.

"A bridesmaid, how about a story about a bridesmaid." I had pulled the idea out of thin air. Or not out of thin air at all but rather than from the swirling thoughts of Blair Waldorf in my mind.

" _A bridesmaid?_ " Came my editor's incredulous echo. Epperly had been frustrated with me for a while now, tired of my complaints about slumming it in the Weddings section. According to her, I hadn't proven myself worthy yet of a more intriguing section such as Arts or Travel.

"There's this girl," I began, more excited now about the forming idea. "She's been a bridesmaid, I think 26 times now, the van der Woodsen-Archibald wedding we're covering will be her 27th. I think there's a story there."

"A professional bridesmaid, so to speak." Epperly's pen came to rest under her chin. "I like it. Have a draft on my desk by next week."

It had seemed like a blessing at the time. A good excuse to spend time with Blair, who I irrationally wanted to see again.

 _But now, I know it was a curse._

When I wrote it, it was as though I was in a fever dream. It was the night after we had gone to the speakeasy and I had about ten emails in my inbox from Epperly demanding the draft. But somewhere around the time she had let me lead her into the speakeasy and take the coat off her shoulders, the idea of writing about her had started to feel like a betrayal.

After a hefty dose of whiskey, I convinced myself it was just one article. One article that was my ticket out of the world of matrimony and into something more palatable. Perhaps Blair would even find it flattering, being the star of his story.

But then the edits had happened and by the time Epperly returned the draft, Blair went from the role of shining, underappreciated best friend with a knack for witty insults to tragic spinster destined to always be in the shadow of her more beautiful friend. It wasn't what I had written at all.

I still remember the note, at the end of the hard copy edited draft, written in bright red ink. The one that made me wonder if Epperly could see through my words so easily.

 _People want a love story between the bride and the groom._ _ **Not the bridesmaid and the journalist.**_

It was a hit piece, that's what she had turned it into. She didn't want to paint the bridesmaid as the unsung hero of weddings. She wanted something that would appeal to the bride, to remind them that they were the one everyone should be looking at.

This is what I would have explained to Blair, had she not stormed out.

I thought she would cool off. I thought I would have a chance to explain, with a little bit of time. Maybe I could even show her the original piece, prove to her she wasn't just a mark.

But it's been three months and now, I'm starting to think she'll never know.

* * *

It hasn't been three months since I've seen her though.

There was a day in late September, two weeks afterward, maybe, when I went to see her. I waited patiently outside of her apartment when she didn't answer the door. Half an hour went by and I heard the unmistakable sound of her echoing through the marble-floored hallway.

When she saw me waiting, she had frozen in spot. Ten feet away and looking like it wasn't enough distance at all.

Her shocked expression went cool, quickly. Those brown eyes that once looked at me softly, like she was trying to know me, went black. " _What are you doing here?_ "

I had imagined this very response yet it still threw me. "Blair," I plead. "I need to explain it all to you. I want to make things right."

Her brows knit together and she doesn't falter as she keeps that steady, cold gaze on me. "There's nothing to explain and nothing to make right." She breezes past me, pretending to reach the lock on the door that she doesn't have to stand inches away. She's so close that I could put my hand on her arm, let her warmth heat my sallow skin. But I don't.

The door unlocks and she steps halfway through, blocking the interior of the entrance with her body. Sure to not give me the idea of invitation. Those icy eyes fall on me again. "It's irrelevant now. Publish the article for all I fucking care, I hope it buys you a one-way ticket into the Arts column so I'm your last exploit. Though, I imagine you're creative enough to find a way to manipulate some hapless gallery owner or such…" She trails off, looking bored. "Best of luck."

I feel a gust of frigid air as the door slams in my face.

* * *

Since then, the leaves have changed, the sun has receded behind the clouds, and the city is empty save for New Yorkers; tourists having fled for warmer climates.

I should have forgotten about her now. Or at least let her become a far-off regret I muse over every now and then.

But I have failed to move on, instead, I see her face in crowded spaces. I blink and she's gone every time.

I have, I suppose, accepted that I committed a fatal error in our burgeoning relationship that will not ever be righted. But I can't quite relinquish my feelings for her. Even if I know they will never be returned.

Instead, I spin my heartache into a web of syllables and sentences. Each day, I grow closer to completing my first full-length novel. So at least there's that.

When I'm not working on the dark tale I'm spinning of lost dreams, I work on freelance articles that pay the bills and allow a brief reprieve from my innermost thoughts.

It's better than weddings, that's what I allow myself to believe.

I haven't thought of white dresses and bells tolling since the day I quit, three months ago.

The doorbell rings and I glance up from my laptop, trying to remember the last time I heard that sound. The few visitors I have, my dad or sister, always walk in or maybe text me first.

I walk apprehensively to the door, not letting my foolish hopes envision Blair on the other side of the door. More likely, it'll be a misdelivered package. Or a solicitor. Probably the latter.

I almost don't recognize her when I open the door. Her hair is highlighted, blonder than ever, but that giant ring is still recognizable, I couldn't forget that. I wonder when that was returned to its rightful place on her left hand.

"Serena," I can't help but make her name a question.

"Dan," She doesn't smile. "Can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah," I stammer, opening the door for her. "What, uh, what can I do for you?"

I wonder if she's back to ask me to pick up where I left off writing about her wedding. No, I made it pretty clear I am hardly the person for that job. Then, a painful stab hits me in the chest, a jolt of fear. "Is Blair okay?"

Serena looks confused, "Yes, of course, she is."

Oh. I feel a little stupid. Call it wishful thinking that perhaps she's been too ill with some mysterious condition to return my texts or calls from three months ago. To tell me it's not irrelevant at all.

Serena retrieves a pale blue envelope from her leather tote, it's unsealed and Dan takes it apprehensively. She nods for me to retrieve the contents.

It's a wedding invitation.

 _Not Blair's, thank god._ After that thought, I remind myself if she had gone and gotten engaged in the past two months that would be a pretty fast-tracked moving-on timeline. It was a ridiculous thought.

"I shouldn't be here and I certainly shouldn't be inviting you to my wedding. But," She looks at me with a neutral expression. "Blair is miserable and you look pretty miserable too and I thought I should help set things right between you too."

"Blair hates me," I frown. "And don't you?"

"No, Dan." A soft smile crosses her lips, a sympathetic one. "I think you're a good guy, with good intentions, that made a mistake. One that came at the expense of my best friend, unfortunately, but I don't think you meant to hurt her-"

"I didn't." My fervent response cuts her off. "I never would."

"I know," Serena shifts her bag to her other hand. I realize I should have asked her to sit, but it's too late now. "I read your texts to her, you seemed really sorry and like you really care about her. She deleted them, by the way. Never even read them."

I feel a slight prick of embarrassment at the idea of someone else reading my desperate pleas that night she had discovered the article.

"Anyways," Serena continues. "Nate and I are getting married in two weeks, she's the maid of honor so she can't exactly storm off when she sees you. But maybe just come to the reception," She suggests lightly. "She'll probably interrupt the ceremony by having the ushers escort you out. At the reception, there's less likely to be a scene."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I feel a swell of hope at the idea of seeing Blair again yet I can't help but not want to face another rejection. "This could ruin your wedding,"

"She's my best friend and her happiness is important to me. Plus, there wouldn't even be a wedding if she hadn't introduced me to Nate so I'll call it even. And don't worry, I'll hide all the steak knives before she's seen you." She teases gently.

Dan winces, "I hope it won't come to that."

"Me too. I'd rather not have a Carrie-style wedding. So don't fuck up." She says sternly before heading to the door.

"Thank you, Serena," I say gratefully. "It means a lot, that you're giving me a second chance with her."

Serena shrugs and then breezes through the door in that effortless way of hers. "Good luck."

 _I'm going to need it._

* * *

The week drags slowly and I pass the idle hours by rehearsing what I'll say to her. Or rather, scribble out a series of prospective conversations that could take place that start with me saying how sorry I am and her always glaring at me in fierce hatred and reminding me of my irrelevance. I would be a fool to think it might go another way. Yet, romantics are fools, aren't they?

So I press on. I take my best suit to the dry cleaners so it'll be ready for the wedding and I even buy a new tie. A silk skinny one that was in GQ, according to the salesperson. It's not as though it'll help me win her back. If only a 54-inch strip of matte-black silk fabric can repair a broken relationship. An almost-relationship.

I think that's what haunts me most, even now. The _almosts_. In my head, I think of her as an almost lover.

But that's a lie.

Because I know for certain that I loved her, that I still love her. But I suppose that title is somewhat true because I can't help but believe had I had more time with her, she could have loved me. And perhaps she almost did.

* * *

I don't belong here. I know that as I sit at the table at the very back, surrounded by the people Nate and Serena likely only invited out of obligation. A fratty seeming guy Nate likely went to school with, a distant cousin, and the drunken uncle, those types. That's who _Dan_ has been relegated to spending his evening beside.

The second cousin, relation unknown, is already drunk it seems and the ends of her bleached blonde hair seemed to have similarly been doused in alcohol judging by the way they hang into her wine glass. She seized me as soon as I sat down, eyes sparking with interest.

"Where were _you_ during the ceremony?" She slurred, leaning over. "I would have noticed you."

I pretended not to hear her question and excused myself to grab a drink from the bar. I wasn't planning on drinking, and still don't, but I need something to do until the bridal party arrives. As I stand idly in the bar line not caring how slowly it moves, I fiddle with my tie bar and hope it's not completely askew.

"Ladies and gentlemen," The wedding planner is tapping into a microphone with her hand not holding her planner. "The bride and groom will be joining us shortly so we ask you to please be seated at your assigned table so we can welcome them."

I take the imported beer passed to me by the bartender and head back toward the table, happy to see that now the Alpha Kappa Douchebag has stolen the tipsy blonde's attention. I slide into my seat and swivel so I'm facing the door. I half wonder if she'll turn around the second she sees me, or if she'll sick the usher on me. Possibly. But given that I'm so close to the path she'll walk, it would certainly catch everyone's attention so perhaps she won't make a scene.

I think a giant, roaring commotion would have been better than what ends up happening. It wouldn't have caused quite the sharp pain to my chest that I feel now.

The music lowers as the wedding planner welcomes in the bridal party. The violins still play though, low yet vibrant as people turn their attention toward the doorway.

Blair strides in, a periwinkle blue bridesmaid dress that makes her olive skin shimmer under the tea lit ballroom. But her eyes don't reach me. Instead, they stay fixed on the groomsman she's linking arms with. There's a twinkle in her eyes as though he's just made her laugh. His grey eyes cut to her as he leans in to whisper in her ear. She smirks and jabs him playfully in the arm as the cross the room. Her back is to me now but I don't need to see her face to know.

She's happy.

This is not the portrait of misery of Serena painted.

I hate myself for feeling disappointed. I want to be the type of man that smiles for her finding someone better. I want to want to get up and walk out the door. Leave her to her happiness.

But I'm selfish. So I stay.

* * *

Serena glides in looking like a Grecian goddess with her long, flowy blonde hair and seeming halo of light surrounding the crown on her head. Nate looks just as elated as he presses a kiss to her cheek. He pulls her chair out for her at their table, front and center of the whole ballroom. The bridal party flanks them on each side and as I watch, I've never felt like more of an outsider.

The wedding planner takes over as MC again and starts saying something into the microphone that I can't bring myself to pay attention to. At the bridal table, Georgina has that same bored expression on her face as she undoes the bobby pins from her hair. Blair seems to chide her, a frown now creasing her face as she steals the pin from Georgina's hand and puts it back into her hair where it was before.

That's when Georgina sees me, there's no mistaking the flicker of recognition as her disinterested gaze takes in the room. Her eyes reach the back of the room and land on me with surprise then amusement. I look away, feeling like a caught child before reminding myself that I was invited. Serena told me to be here. I haven't done anything wrong. Well, not lately.

I force myself to listen to the band as they play a classical rendition of Beyonce song and I muse over whether I should sneak out before Blair's noticed me. It wouldn't matter to her if she didn't see me, I'm irrelevant.

This is all so pointless, I realize that now, I likely am only setting myself up for a second rejection. Because why did I ever think this would work? A wedding is hardly a place for a reconciliation. I let out a sigh and push my unopened beer away.

One more glance, and then I'll go.

My eyes cross the room and when they find her, hers find me. I freeze, unable to blink, or move, or register any sort of emotion. Time seems to freeze with us as the sounds of laughter, conversation, and the violins fade away.

For a moment, I think the unreadable expression on her face will morph into a smile.

But of course, it doesn't. Instead, something else washes over her face but it's gone before I can label it. It's immediately replaced by a glare as she pushes out her chair and whispers something to Serena. Serena tries to catch her by the arm but she shakes her off and she's marching toward me before I can react.

A few strands of hair frame her beautiful indignant face as she cuts across the empty dancefloor and arrives before my feet.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" It's immediately clear that she hasn't lost her tenacity in the past three months.

"Hi," I try to sound unruffled by her brimming fury but I doubt I succeed. "Serena invited me."

"Of course she did," Blair seemed to anticipate this reply and whirl around briefly to shoot a menacing look toward her best friend. When she faces me again, I can tell she's thought of her winning retort. She has _that_ look. "Don't you have another bridesmaid to go dupe? In fact, I saw another wedding happening on the mezzanine level. I'm sure they'll be more welcoming there. Oh and maybe it'll get you the promotion this time."

"I can't get promoted," I reply flatly. "I quit."

She's still standing and I feel like I should stand too. I notice now that a few of my table mates have turned their attention to our discussion. "Oh."

She wasn't expecting that.

"Blair, maybe we can go talk out outside?" I suggest gently, beginning to stand.

"No," Blair pushes me back into my chair before I've risen fully. "They're about to serve dinner. You and I will have to finish this later."

The lack of a _we_. A _you and I_ , instead, shouldn't sting, but it does. But I force myself to remain hopeful at the prospect of finally getting to explain myself.

"I'll wait."

"Yes," She narrows her eyes. "You will."

With that, she turns and heads back to her table.

"Hm," The blonde leans in. "You just got even more interesting. Ex-girlfriend? I can make you forget all about her." She twirls a strand of hair.

I think reminding her of the guy on her right who she was just using similar lines on. "I think I'll pass," I say dryly, unable to feign politeness. "Besides, she's not someone I could ever forget."

* * *

Almost all of the reception traditions have been completed and as all the couples are invited onto the dancefloor, it's then that Blair deigns to give me her attention again. The blonde and Alpha Kappa Douchebag are dancing, the cousin is perched by the bar, and the rest of the table has emptied so it's just me. But not for long, as Blair roughly pulls out the chair beside me and sits much more forcefully than I would expect someone who can't weigh more than 100 pounds could.

"Let's get right to it," Blair orders without preamble. "What do you want? If you aren't with the Times anymore you clearly can't be here for a follow-up story so?"

I look at her in bemusement. Isn't it clear? I don't ask, instead, I reply honestly. "Blair, that article, it was…" I falter, trying to find the right words. "It wasn't what I wrote at all."

"You're saying you just so happened to have an article on handwritten by someone else also using the pseudonym Lincoln Hall and writing about a person with a name eerily similar to mine." She scoffs. "You don't honestly expect me to believe that, do you?"

"No," I correct. "I- Let me start over. I shouldn't have written about you in the first place without telling you. It was so- It," All my practiced speeches of what I would say escape me and I stammer. I resolve to shut my eyes momentarily and try again. "It's my biggest regret, Blair, betraying you. Every day, I've thought about you and what I would do if I had a second chance at our- at dating you. I would have never written a thing about you. I probably wouldn't have even agreed to cover Serena's wedding. You were far more important than any promotion could be. But I felt backed into a corner by my editor and I talked myself into writing the article. I was going to tell you, the day after I wrote it. But when I saw you," I trail off, uncertain. I'm honestly surprised she's letting me tell her all of this. I've been waiting for her to cut in with some cleverly crafted diss and the fact that she hasn't has thrown me.

"It was harder than I thought." I continue, "I didn't want to jeopardize what we had. So I tried to get it back from my editor but it was too late. She had already completed her edits which completely rendered it into a brand new article. A hit piece. Something I would have never written." I implore her to believe me. "Blair, I have never regretted something so much as I did even writing a sentence of that article. I shredded it right away and sent in my resignation by the end of the week."

I study her face, anticipating her response. Her hands are idly smoothing her dress out and her eyes are fixed on her lap. It looks like she's thinking and I hold my breath, waiting for her reply. Blindly hopeful that she'll forgive me.

Suddenly, the orchestral music stops and a set of speakers that I hadn't even noticed begin blaring _Single Ladies_. "It's that time," The wedding planner sing songs. "The bouquet toss!"

 _Of course._ I sigh and watch Blair's attention turn to the center of the dance floor where a cluster of girls are huddling together. Serena's at the forefront motioning for Blair.

"I think that's your cue," I say, a little disappointedly. "I'll have an ice pack ready, in case there's another casualty."

Blair shakes her head. "My bouquet toss days are over. I've decided it's bad luck."

"Because you met me during the last one," I surmise, despair tinging my words.

Blair doesn't disagree but she also doesn't agree. "I'll let Georgina have it." She says instead and we both watch as Serena sighs from across the room, seeming to catch on that Blair won't be joining and turns around to face away from the cluster of women rallying for the bouquet. With a great heave, she tosses it behind her so forcefully that it soars across the room, over the head of every single girl on the dancefloor. Yet they all still grab fistfuls of air, in hope, jumping and jostling.

At last, the bouquet begins its descent and it's just before us. I watch as it begins to slowly drop down and my eyes follow straight down to where it lands in front of Blair. It lands so it's just on the very edge of the white-tableclothed surface, teetering on the precipice. We both watch as it plops off the table and falls onto her lap. As though it wasn't clearly enough intended for her. There's a gasp from the audience and a few annoyed grunts. Someone yells, "That doesn't count. Redo!"

Serena, meanwhile, looks jubilant and is steadfastly ignoring the chorus of "Redo" chants. Blair sits there looking at it, not moving.

"Well, that's a sign if ever I saw one," I hear a raspy voice say and look up to see Blair's friend, Georgina.

"No, it's not." Blair fires back. She grabs the bouquet from her lap, stands, and then thrusts it at Georgina. "Here, it's yours. I'm going to go-" She pauses, obviously looking for an excuse. "Repin Serena's bustle, it came loose."

"Blair," I try to stop her at the same time as Georgina.

"B," Georgina rolls her eyes. "You're really so exhausting." She then looks at me expectantly and I realize, for some reason she wants me to stand. Her steely blue eyes are hard to refuse so I do. Then she takes Blair by the shoulders and gently pushes her toward me. "Go dance,"

"Absolutely not," Blair tries to wriggle free from Georgina's grip. "Let go of me, Georgina. _Georgina_ ,"

"You're so weak," Georgina laughs. "I'm barely holding you."

I interrupt this tableau which is quickly gaining traction as eyes shift toward us at the back of the room. The drunken uncle even looks concerned. "It's okay, Georgina. I'm sure Blair's date wouldn't like her dancing with another guy anyway."

They both exchange bemused glances before looking at me. "Carter?" They ask in unison.

I nod, unaware.

Georgina smirks, "Carter is not her date although he'd very much like to be. Unfortunately, for him she's trying to pawn him off on me. He'll be in good hands, though."

"Ew," Blair wrinkles her nose. Then she looks off in the distance, "Oh, look Serena's calling me over."

"Serena is with Nate." She squints. "And apparently _feeding_ him cake, seriously?" Georgina pretends to gag then turns back to Blair. "You're a liar and they are disgusting. Why am I in this wedding again?" She shakes her head. "Blair, Dan has shown up to a wedding where he knows no one all the way and dressed up in what looks like a surprisingly well-tailored suit so," She grips Blair by both shoulders. "The least you can do is dance with him. One dance. Then, you can send him off in a Brooklyn-bound taxi for all I care."

I stand there through Georgina's little pep talk awkwardly. I try to focus anywhere else but Blair's displeased expression. Until it lands back on me.

"One dance." Blair echoes flatly.

"You don't-" I begin to give her a polite out before Georgina claps a hand over my mouth.

"One dance," With that, she pushes us together and toward the dance floor.

The speakers have since been silenced and the band now plays a classical rendition of some slow pop song. I hesitantly offer Blair my hand and she takes it after a stretched out second. There's distance between us as her other hand tentatively comes to rest on my shoulder and my hand encircles her waist.

"We really don't have to dance," I say as we slowly begin to sway.

"Now you say that, Humphrey?" She asks rhetorically. "You know, you're making your dance partner feel rather unwanted."

"I didn't mean that," I quickly amend. "I just meant that I wanted to talk to you. Dancing doesn't have to be part of the equation."

Blair seems to consider. "I think Georgina will handcuff us together if we try to stop. She keeps a pair, in her purse. Don't ask why." Her beautiful face contorts for a moment before settling into a neutral expression.

We fall into a brief silence before I bring my eyes back to hers. "I really am sorry."

She nods, "So if you quit, what is it that you do now?"

"I still write," I answer. "Just as a freelancer now."

"Write about what?" She asks and something almost like a smile comes to her lips. "Weather?"

The flicker of emotion I feel at her tiny reference to one of our long-ago conversations is so sharp, I have to look at a point beyond her shoulder. It's inconsequential really, just a tiny icebreaker. Yet, it's a painful reminder of what things were like. The easy banter. Before I fucked it all up.

When I look back at her, it's with a mask of amusement. "No, sadly, even the weather section turned me down."

She cocks her head, as if to say, _Really?_

"I mostly write for a few Brooklyn-based papers," I inform her. "Articles on new openings in the area, local events, things like that. I don't mind it. And," I take in a breath. "When I'm not doing that, I work on my novel."

"A novel?" She seems interested.

"Yes," I say a little unsure of myself. "I thought it was finally time I gave a try at the sort of writing I want to be doing."

Blair smiles now, a reassuring one that may not be broad but seems sincere. The tiny gesture sends another jolt to my heart. "Maybe I'll see it in a bookstore someday."

I try not to read too much into that and instead say, "Maybe. So how's your job going?"

I watch as she dithers before finally answering. "I put in my two weeks."

"Oh," I am genuinely surprised. "Why? What happened?"

"It just felt stagnant. Like I wasn't headed anywhere. I think I hadn't stayed for the right reasons and it was time to move on. I don't even have another job lined up. It's crazy, I think, but I think I have to figure out what I want to do first."

"That's not crazy," I say steadily. "You'll find something new and you'll be incredible at it."

"You can't know that, Humphrey."

"Of course, I do."

She rolls her eyes. "Right, cause you're still on the apology tour."

"No," I continue. "Because I know who you are. I know that you're fiercely strong. Independent. Outspoken. Beautiful. Capable of anything."

She looks taken aback and I watch a flicker of something cross her face before she glances away. "You really think that? You don't think I'm just destined to be 'always a bridesmaid?'" Her open, vulnerable face makes me feel another pang of regret.

"Of course, I could never think that of you. I didn't write that. My editor did." I say with urgency. "Blair," I let the gap between us close just a bit. "I'd do anything to make you believe that."

"I think I believe you," Her tone is hesitant and I feel her tense a bit. "I just don't know where we go from here."

"I don't know either," I respond honestly. "But I know that I've thought about you every day since I last you and I don't want to go another few months without seeing you. Or even a week. Or a day, really."

I watch Blair release a breath and a silent debate cross her features. "I don't want that either," She confesses softly.

I drop her hand and let my hand come to encircle her waist fully. I feel her hand tentatively creep up to my neck, softly. "Say I can see you tomorrow," I plead.

She nods, "You can see me tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," I echo faintly. As if on cue, the violin swells. I lean in so close that our foreheads tip together and our cheeks brush. Just as I close the rest of the distance, she lets her promise of tomorrow be sealed with the touch of her lips to mine.

* * *

 **I hope you all liked this chapter! It was harder than I thought to transition to Dan's POV, especially since it was in first person. But I hope it flowed well and felt authentic. This one was longer than I had planned but I wanted to provide a real sense of progression. Particularly, since you all had to wait so long for this update. Also, this chapter came out way angstier than probably necessary for a romantic comedy style story lol. But it was a bit of a refreshing change to write since my other stories haven't had much drama in the plot lately.**

 **I really do appreciate each and every one of you, even more so for being so patient and supportive. You readers are the best! I'll update again soon :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you all for encouraging the continuation of this story :) It was a challenge to write the last chapter, especially in Dan's first person POV, but you all made it worth it with your kind reviews. Thank you so much.**

* * *

I walk into the quiet cafe and spot Blair in a booth. I let out a breath in relief, I had an uneasy feeling she wouldn't actually show. Her back is straight against the tufted seat and her hands are folded neatly on the table. We're on her turf, a few blocks from Central Park, but I don't mind. I would have met her all the way upstate if those had been her conditions.

There's not a trace of exhaustion from yesterday's wedding on her face. Instead, her skin is smooth and when her eyes look up to meet mine, there's not even a slight shadow beneath them.

"Hi," I greet her as I slide in across from her. "Thank you for meeting me."

She nods and slides the drink menu to me. She's painfully polite, "Thank you for agreeing to come to the Upper East Side."

I look down at the menu for a lack of anything else to say and the silence is broken by a chipper waitress appearing at our table. She passes a latte to Blair, one she presumably ordered before I arrived. Then, she turns her attention to me. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Espresso doppio, please." I slide the drink menu back into its holder against the wall. Once she's gone, I look back to Blair. "How was the rest of the wedding?"

I left after we had agreed upon meeting today. It seemed the right thing to do, to let her forget about me for the rest of the night and enjoy her best friend's night. I find my gaze dropping now, though, momentarily to her lips. The memory of the brief kiss in which we had ended the night still fresh. It felt like potential.

"Serena and Nate were whisked away in a horse-drawn carriage as the guests showered them with confetti. And they lived happily ever after," She replies dryly.

"Really?" I could honestly see the carriage part happening as I recall Serena's original wedding demands.

"No," Blair smirks. "But it was nice, they did leave in one of those retro cars with the 'Just Married' writing across the rearview window though."

My double espresso arrives and we fall silent as the waitress walks away. I want to ask Blair everything and nothing. I want to rewind time and undo the article that was our undoing. I want to be sitting at this booth laughing and sliding my hand across hers.

I do none of those things.

"How have you been?" I ask and it feels cold and insincere. But what else do I say? I'm a writer, I remind myself. I could certainly script something better than this.

"Good," Blair unclasps then clasps her hands again. "Besides quitting my job, _that is_... Which has been deemed my mother 'an unconscionable mistake.' I have a lot of time now to think about what I want to do and apply for positions with Serena being gone. It's been… quiet."

"I'm sure you're happy to have your place back to yourself,"

Blair seems to consider, "I suppose I am." Her hands slide back down the table to her lap. "And how are you? How is freelancing?"

I have the sense that neither of us are going to be honest with each other and will instead skirt the real reason we're here. We can stay on this safe, solid patch of ice or let ourselves skate across the thin ice that might be treacherous but could also lead us somewhere better.

I decide to take a leap of faith and hope the ice won't crack beneath me.

"I've missed you," I tell her honestly and watch as her expression changes into one of surprise. She momentarily looks like wants to scold me for breaking some unwritten rule. I proceed though, not letting her potential admonishment deter me. "I know I shouldn't but I have to ask you, have you moved on?"

I think I know the answer, at least I hope I do. Because she wouldn't have let me kiss her if she had, would she? Or was that a test? One I still don't know the results of.

She brings her hand to her forehead and lets it slide across her skin. I watch her draw in a breath. "Define 'moved on,'"

A deflection.

"Blair," I reason. "You know what I mean."

"I don't because you could be asking if I've moved in from you, from your deception, from any number of things really. So I need you to be specific."

I play along with this game in which I have no knowledge of the rules or the object. "I am asking if you are over it, us, if I'm wasting my time here. Because I meant what I said last night. I still think about you, I never stopped, and I never stopped regretting what I did. If I could go back and not write that article, I genuinely mean that I wouldn't. But I can't. So I need to know if you can ever trust me again… If we could ever get back on track. Because I don't want this, Blair. This distance between us. It's almost worse than not having you at all."

A flash of anger crosses Blair's face, "It's been one day, I can't just magically forgive you overnight. I thought I was ready to, but then I saw you today and realized I still don't really know you. I still don't know if I'm a part of some long con I'll never see coming."

"You don't really think that do you?"

"I thought I knew exactly how you felt about me, Dan." She says sharply. "But then, you wrote about me. About all the things I fear about myself, it was all on paper and I knew someone who-" She breaks. "Really cared about me couldn't say those things. I want to believe that it wasn't you, that it was your editor, but I don't know if I can. I need more time." She stiffens and folds her arms across her chest. "So I suppose that's your offer, more time or none at all."

She motions for the waitress before I can stop her.

I nod but wish I could make her see things the way I see them... Make her see her the way I see her. But I can't.

"Check please," Blair orders as I think of something, anything to change her mind.

"I can give you time. But it's been over two months and I am starting to lose faith that even with more time that you'll change your mind. There has to be something I can do to make you see,"

Blair tries to take the check as the waitress sets it down but I swiftly retrieve it. I put down my card and pass it back to the waitress before she has retreated.

Blair looks briefly annoyed but then turns pensive. A steady gaze is placed on me as she says something I thought she'd never say, "I want to read it. I need to read it. The original."

"Blair, I shredded that. I told you,"

"Check your laptop or your emails. There has to be a digital copy somewhere." She collects her bag from the booth and stands up. "Email it to me and I'll let you know what I decide by the end of the week."

"Are you sure?" I ask, following her out of the cafe. I feel a little shaky at the prospect of having her read something so intimate. It contains my unfiltered feelings for her. My editor deemed it a love story, something that never would have made it to print on second thought.

"Yes," She replies cooly as she steps out of the door I hold open for her. A town car is waiting for her and she approaches it. "Thank you for the coffee, Humphrey."

The car door closes and she's obscured by a tinted window and I'm left with a rapid pulse of trepidation.

* * *

I wasn't very thorough in my destruction of the article it seems by mid-afternoon. Blair was right, I found the document sitting neatly in my uncleared Recycle folder on my laptop. In my haste, I must not have thought to empty it after hitting delete. I restore the document and reread it ten times over before deciding that yes, I will send it.

Because what other choice do I have? I have no idea if it'll change her mind. But I send it anyway.

The hours tick on after sending it through the either. _I'll let you know what I decide by the end of the week._ The end of the week. I didn't even know how I was going to make it through the end of the day and it was already five in the evening.

I resolve to sit at my desk and force myself to crank out 1,000 words on a far away world sans a bridesmaid and a journalist. It helps, only a little, to distract myself with this made up realm. When I've hit my target word count, I refresh my email, again, to see it empty from the one reply I want to see. I shut the laptop in disappointment and fling it from my lap onto the couch.

Wandering into the kitchen, I realize I haven't eaten all day. I don't have even the slightest of appetites but cooking is something to do. As I saute a few cloves of garlic, I feel the ghost of Blair's touch across my back. The memory lingers of her standing behind me, peppering me with kisses as I cook. I shut my eyes and feel the hot splatter of oil as I let my spatula-clad hand drift too far down. I drop the wooden spatula into the pan and go over to the sink, rinsing the burn under room temperature water.

My mind is still elsewhere though, even as the skin continues to sting as I towel it dry. I think of the night I first saw her, never imagining that that girl with her expensive mismatched heels and surrounding of elite friends would stand in my kitchen one day. The only thing I can believe is how it ended.

I go through the motions, adding an onion, adding a can of tomatoes, spices, then bring a pot of water to boil, add noodles, drain, and add sauce. It all forms a rigatoni in marinara that should have a full-bodied flavor but instead is colorless and bland.

By the time I've finished cooking and cleaning, there's a tiny pinprick of hope that perhaps by now Blair has replied to my email.

 _Refresh, refresh, refresh._

Still empty.

* * *

"Hello, sunshine," Jenny greets me sarcastically at the little diner down the street from the loft we grew up in. "You look worse, somehow, than when I last saw you."

"Thanks," I reply sardonically, eyes downcast. "How are you?"

"Better than you," Jenny smiles brightly. "I got to design a dress this week at work. It was just for the background of the editorial the atelier was being featured in but still, it felt good to be sewing again. Running out for coffees and manhandling models into their too-tight garments was getting old."

I feel a genuine ripple of pride in his sister, "That's awesome, Jen. I bet you'll get another assignment soon."

"I hope so," Jenny agrees as their waitress arrives. They place their orders and are delivered coffees. Jenny turns serious. "So are you finally going to tell me what exactly happened to you to end up like this?" She motions at me generally. "You're morose. I have a theory, if you won't tell."

"What's your theory?" I ask without enthusiasm.

"I bet the girl-"

"Blair," I correct. "And how did you know it was a girl that's the problem?"

"Because it's always a girl," Jenny replies as though I'm simple-minded. "Anyway, I bet she saw Cedric. She probably took one look and bolted. Am I right?" Jenny quirks a brow.

"I wish it was that simple," A tiny chuckle escapes me, my first laugh in weeks. "But no, it was nothing that inconsequential."

"So what was it?" Jenny places her hand on her chin. "I can help if you'd just tell me."

"It was," I look away. "I put work above her and betrayed her in the process. Okay? That's as much as I'll say because honestly, there's nothing for you to fix. I've done what I can and now I have to wait and see if it's enough."

"Hm," Jenny mulls this over. "Well, I hope it works out. If it doesn't, I guess I can set you up with someone from work. There's this girl Jessica that's always asking if she can meet my older brother." Jenny winces. "Normally, I'd refuse like I always do but you look so miserable I can make an exception. She's perky and basically the opposite of you at the moment so-"

"No," I say more sternly than I intended and I watch Jenny flinch. "Sorry, I just- That won't help. But I appreciate the offer."

We eat our meal in silence, eventually making more small talk. I pay and Jenny announces she should get to work, I don't blame her for rushing off. It's not like I'm great company at the moment.

I, on the otherhand, don't have work to run off to. A distraction I would welcome at the moment. Instead, this empty Monday stretches on and it's only 9:30 AM. A bonus of the hour in which little occurs is that I can at least appreciate the empty streets as I walk back to my apartment. Each step I take, I find myself wondering if somewhere out there Blair is reading my article.

* * *

 **The Bridesmaid**

Two days is all I can manage before curiosity breaks my resolve. I knew asking for the article was a bad idea. I thought maybe if I did, I could rip off the band-aid and end this whole brief entwinement with Dan Humphrey. Maybe then I could finally stop thinking about him… Stop picturing myself on his couch, my head tipped on his shoulder, our hands in entangled…

Closure is what I need.

Kissing him at the wedding had been a mistake. It had reminded me of the ways in which my mouth had missed his. I had let myself imagine those three months apart were just a blip. A bump in the road that we would forget as our future stretched along a windy road. I pictured myself leading him up to my hotel room.

There were so many things I'd never say to him, now. I could get it all out on paper, perhaps then the words would stop from swallowing me whole. Read the article, then put all my own thoughts and feelings to paper, destroy both, and forget the entire affair.

Those were the steps I had outlined for myself in my "Guide To Getting Over Dan Humphrey." Except I had broken the first rule by not reading the article as soon as I returned home that Sunday. Instead, I let it sit like a challenge in my inbox, willing myself not to be so desperate as to read it right away.

I told myself it was self-preservation. But it wasn't. It was a paralyzing fear that the words in that article would break me. That they would take my already constricted chest with its barely pumping lungs and constrict it further and further until I could no longer breathe.

Finding out exactly what Dan Humphrey had really thought of me, had written about me, could be the end of this Blair Waldorf.

I could be left a shell of a girl, one that would go through the motions, never quite feeling again.

So Sunday bled into Monday and Monday bled into Tuesday, until by evening it had seemed the day had run dry leaving me to face my fear.

* * *

Armed with a glass of wine, an old scuffed Manolo I can chuck if anger arises, and my phone in case I needed to immediately call and tell off Dan Humphrey, I sit down at my desk. The one item I probably would truly need, a box of tissues, is absent because I have far too much pride to cry over a Weddings columnist.

I hesitantly click on the email.

 _From: Dan Humphrey_

 _To: Blair Waldorf_

 _Subject: For Blair_

Within the body of the message, Dan has typed a simple, pleading request.

 _Blair,_

 _I really am so sorry. I'd do anything to repair the trust I broke._

 _I'm sorry._

 _Yours,_

 _Dan_

My foolish heart betrays me, palpitating irregularly, upon seeing the way he signed the email.

 _Yours._

If only.

I push my wistful thoughts away and click on the attachment. My breath stays lodged as my eyes roam the page.

 _The Unsung Ballad of a Bridesmaid_

 _Lincoln Hall_

My eyes travel fast through the pages willing a word to jump out that will cut me deeply. But none do. Instead, all of the hurtful remarks like always being a bridesmaid, or a lonely spinster, are gone. What's left is what seems almost like a love story.

 _Almost._

Because Dan's journalistic approach is still there and it's most likely only the hopeless romantic in me letting myself read between the lines. When he says that the maid of honor, Clair Carlyle, is a "treasure in the hand Philistines," that doesn't mean he thinks I'm a treasure, does it? It's just a general statement. It couldn't possibly mean-

Desperate for more clues, I scroll back up and reread the article. I want to find evidence, evidence that this growing feeling that I should forgive him, should have forgiven him a long time ago, is accurate. The feeling grows tenfold and I slam my laptop shut. I need to get out of here. I need to know.

Fuck the guide to getting over Dan Humphrey. It was nonsense anyway.

* * *

 _ **The Journalist**_

My melancholy Tuesday is interrupted by a sudden flurry of knocking on the door to my apartment. Immediately thinking of Jenny and the prospect that something has happened to her to send her in a state of panic, I hurry to open it, not even bothering to check through the eyehole to see who it is.

 _It's not Jenny._

Instead, it's a reverie come to life. Her cheeks are tinged pink as though she's been in the sun, her hair falls in waves around her shoulders, and her eyes are searching as though seeking answers to the mysteries to the universe.

She's a wish granted and I'm a man paralyzed.

I listen as she catches her breath, I wonder if she ran up the stairs. I'm still too stupefied to move. But she breaks the silence.

"What does it mean?" She fiddles with her hands, wringing them. "'A treasure in the hand of Philistines.' Is that just profound-sounding bullshit you spun as part of your Lincoln Hall persona or is that-" Her words break and her eyes implore me.

"You're a treasure, Blair." As I say the words, I realize that sending her the article wasn't the Hail Mary I thought it was. My last chance for forgiveness is something harder, something I've never done with anyone else. Providing her with vulnerability. I would have to tell her with crystal clarity how I really felt for a real shot at a second chance.

Blair is frowning at me now, clearly confused as to why I stopped talking. I inhale sharply and let the walls collapse around me.

"Blair, I love you. I loved you the moment you called me a hack. I knew you were the most beautiful, outspoken, and terrifying commanding girl I had ever met and I would never meet another girl that could make me feel half of what you did. You intimated me so much I wanted to run away but found myself doing the opposite. I couldn't stay away. The reason my editor changed the article so much was that she said it was a love story starring the bridesmaid and that every Bridezilla would feel vindication in knowing that indeed, people paid attention to the bridesmaids they had stuck in ugly dresses as an attempt to mask their beauty. I- I couldn't be objective. I was in love in with you and it threaded through every word I wrote, without even trying."

Her face is such a wash of mixed emotions, I can't begin to decipher them. In my disquieted state, I elaborate. "I know I broke your trust. I don't expect to earn that back right away or even soon. I just would like a chance, to show you that you can let me in." An idea seizes me. "We can even start over, I can fill your calendar with invitations to drinks and we can meet up and you can tell me all about how exhausting your best friend is now that she's married. I'll tell you how very dull my freelance writing career is and how I'm pretty sure the Weather column is all I'm suited for. At the end of the night, I'll wish you a good night and kick myself on the way home for not kissing you. We can start over, Blair."

"Or," There's a softness to her tone that wasn't there any of the times we've recently talked and it gives me a seed of hope. "We can pick up where we left off and rebuild trust along the way. It might take me a while... But I'm willing if you are."

Her hands begin wringing and I reach out and grab them on impulse. She stills in my touch and looks up at me with an expression that finally isn't contempt. I let my hands squeeze hers, "I am, of course, I am."

I step forward and close the distance between us. This kiss is nothing like the one from the wedding which was reserved and somehow foreign. This is kiss is like coming home.

"I've missed you," Blair says suddenly in a rush, pulling away. She keeps her forehead tilted against mine. "I haven't had anyone to complain to about how Serena completely brainwashed me into caring about the environment. During my job search the other day, I came across a company that makes leggings from water bottles and sent in my application. _Leggings_ , Dan. Leggings aren't even pants."

I fall in love with her all over again as she says my name for the first time in months. It's not the same as if she had said 'I love you too," but somehow it's more than enough. I force my breath to steady and will my hands to stop shaking as I put on a wry grin. "It sounds like you need a serious intervention."

"Please," She steps in closer, her arms wrapping around my neck. "I really do."

The weight of her forgiveness engulfs me in a cloud of happiness as our lips meet once more.

* * *

 **TBC...**

 **I hope the dual POV wasn't too confusing. I had been stuck on this chapter for a while until I finally decided it would progress best with a brief delve into Blair's POV. I haven't decided on the POV of the final two chapters, it'll probably come to me once I get to writing them. Oh and also the original title of Dan's article is obnoxiously pretentious on purpose, so hopefully you got that and didn't completely loathe it :) I felt like the dramatic title suited both him and Blair's characters.**

 **Thank you all for reading!**


	11. Epilogue

**Epilogue: The Bridesmaid**

The sound of Dan saying he loves me makes me want to forget the article, to forget the separation, to ask him to be mine. I don't doubt the truth of his words, no matter how the article wore down my trust. It would be impossible not to believe him with the desperate way he kisses me, as though he's been longing for this. It's familiar because I've been longing too.

His hands trace a fervent path up my back and into my hair. My hands grip his shoulders firmly, not letting him break away as I try to forget the mistrust and the heartbreak. I want to make up every lost second, I want to lose myself in him. Abandon the job search, the idle plans that fill my calendar, and forget the existence of anyone else because _this_ is all that matters.

I know now, how empty and hollow my days are without him. The directionless way in which I drifted through these months were proof-alone. Job-less, boyfriend-less, and roommate-less, with only my own despair for comfort. I think before I met Dan I was living in a bubble of sorts. I spent my days dreaming rather than doing. I pledged myself to a man who would never love me back and to a job that would never provide any real sense of fulfillment. It was easier to imagine what life could be rather than to take action.

It's not that he's the destination I had lost the route to. But rather, he was my compass. The crucial guiding light I needed to create a spark to trek on again. With him, I can believe in my own ability.

I'll never admit it but in a way, I needed that article. I needed to see the archetype I could so easily be painted as. It was a wakeup call to stop being the supporting role and to start being the star.

Tomorrow, I'll begin again. I'll go on an interview, for anything, just to put myself out there. I'll write down everything I want in a job. I'll donate all my bridesmaid dresses and let them become long forgotten relics of the past.

But for now, I'll bask in this new light in a Brooklyn loft on a cloudless afternoon. So void of feeling I was these last few months, I need to be lit from within and reinvigorated. My porcelain skin will glisten in the new warmth of this love.

I'll say everything I'm thinking at this very moment in words, someday. Someday soon, but for now, I let my lips on his, my hands in his hair, my skin against his, say everything I cannot.

* * *

Up until today, being jobless provided me with a crippling fear and an intense mountain of regret. But as my sleepy eyes flutter open, I suddenly feel like quitting was the best thing I ever did. Because now, I can stay here languidly lounging between the sheets without awaiting the piercing trill of my alarm.

"Stay," Dan says languidly into my ear as I shift between the sheets, reading my thoughts. I wasn't going to leave but hearing him ask me to stay makes my heart flip over again.

"Alright," I make it sound like I was reticent. I feel a quickening in my chest as his hands maneuver me so I'm facing him. I take in the expression on his face, the intensity in which he's gazing at me, and recognize not saying I love you will be harder than I thought. I force my eyes shut, blocking out the lovelorn lens I'm certainly gazing at him through. The darkness is a solace from the chasm of emotion opening within me. A happy sigh escapes me as he presses a kiss to my forehead.

As his lips retreat, I drift back to sleep.

* * *

It's the last day in November when the sun emerges from what seemed like a hazy sequence of weeks. It feels like love all over and I know I can't wait another second to say it as Dan's hand rests in mine. I tighten my grip on his hand as we walk through the park, letting the feeling flow through our entwined hands.

I come to a halt when we reach the bend in the path and I feel Dan turn to face me, checking that something isn't wrong. What he finds I'm certain, is me looking at him like I've just seen him for the first time all over again. The heat from the sun radiates upon us and I smile up at him.

"I love you," I watch as his face scans mine, looking for reassurance when he seemingly finds it he lets himself smile back at me. It's the courage I needed to dispel the vulnerability that crept in the second I spoke.

"I love you too," As he leans in, we're interrupted by a stray autumn leaf falling from a tree above, he ignores it and lets it glide past us as he murmurs against our lips. "But you already knew that."

I nod and press a grin to his mouth, only letting it fade as his tongue skates gently against mine. He ends the kiss on a chaste note, re-entwining our hands. He looks over at me with a wry expression. "You know, I love you so much that I won't even complain once about the girliness of all the paintings of tutus and ballet slippers we're about to observe."

"Technically, I think you did just complain," I admonish teasingly, "But I'll ignore that part and simply say I love you, again. Despite all your pretentious taste in art and your horrid taste in button-down shirts."

"You love my pretentious taste in art," Dan counters, kissing me again. "It's what drew us together. Because you, Blair," He pauses to kiss me once more. "Are just as pretentious. _If_. _Not_. _More_." He punctuates each word with a peck that makes me smile and glare all at the same time.

It's not a romantic statement, per se, but somehow it makes my heart swell tenfold.

"Come on," I link our hands once more and begin to drag him in the direction of the museum. "Let's go put our pretentious tastes to good use at the exhibition, then."

"If you insist," He looks a little crestfallen as he withdraws his lips from mine and lets me lead him away from the park. But he tightens his grip on my hand, squeezing it, and I watch a smile of love and hope cross back over his face. I think I'm sporting the same one.

So we walk on a sun-drenched path leaving a trail of effervescent joy, hand in hand, and I wonder how on Earth I went so long without knowing this happiness. And as we retreat further into the depths of Manhattan, I think I finally realize where I'm headed.

* * *

 **End :)**

 **I thought a lot about how I wanted this story to end and I always came back to the same idea of an optimistic yet slightly open-ended happily ever after. I know the 27 Dresses movie this story was inspired by had a much more traditional ending but writing that would feel forced. I didn't want a neatly tied off story, I instead wanted to set them off on a new journey as a couple, both working together to reach their career and personal goals. I actually had this ending rewritten for a while but wasn't sure if I would eventually re-work it. After many re-reads and slight tweaks, I decided this is the right ending.** **I hope you all liked it.**

 **Thank you all for reading this story and sticking out the long hiatus! You all really encouraged me to come back to this story with your kind words and gentle reminders. I really appreciate you all.**


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